


Not an Asset

by lil_ace_dragon



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, BAMF Peter Parker, False Memories, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Hydra (Marvel), Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Peter helps with that, Peter was kidnapped by HYDRA, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Ross is just a dick, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Sort Of, Sort of AU, They haven't been rescued from the Raft, and hasn't let them get their friends, but the Accords were trashed, for all this therapy, he should get paid, i don't know how to tag, tony stark is a dad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-05-03 02:44:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 25,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14559138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lil_ace_dragon/pseuds/lil_ace_dragon
Summary: Peter Parker knows how this works. HYDRA is the good guys. They fight for good things. The Avengers are the bad guys. They hurt people, like they hurt Peter.But when Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, and Bucky Barnes are taken by the same base that Peter lives at, his life gets all messed up. His memories of when the Avengers had him are getting all blurry, and the faces are starting to look more like HYDRA Agents and less like Captain America. Besides, what kind of bad guys beg for a kid to be released from a base? What kind of bad guys tell him to go to medical and get some sleep after a battle?Maybe the kind of bad guys that aren't so bad.—on hiatus until june 2019–





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here's my very first fanfic ever, people. For a bit of context, the Accords were trashed, but Ross ran and nobody has been able to free the Raft prisoners. Steve, Tony, and Bucky have been destroying HYDRA bases. They haven't found someone skilled enough in both hacking, fighting, and with a high enough pain tolerance to infiltrate the Raft. 
> 
> Please comment with reviews!
> 
> TW: There's a tiny, tiny reference to self-harm. Many of you won't see it, but some will. Take care of yourselves.

“Are you seriously humming Immigrant Song right now?” 

Tony Stark, genius billionaire playboy philanthropist, continued humming, shooting a death glare at Captain Killjoy. 

“He’s humming what?” asked Bucky, on Tony’s other side. 

“Please don’t-” Steve said, earning yet another glare. 

“It’s our battle cry,” Tony began, “Led Zeppelin, 1970. If I had my suit it would be blasting right now as we heroically incinerated this base.” 

“Don’t listen to him, please,” Steve was tugging on his bonds again, peering at the keyhole on his wrist, “Thor actually thinks it’s a battle cry, and sings it all the time now.” 

Tony snickers, “He doesn’t even know the ly-” His joking smile faded as the metal doors swung open, grinding on the ground with an unholy screech. It took Tony four-point- five seconds to decide he did not like the man at all. Plus there was the fact that Tony assumed it was this man who had ordered them in chains. The man took his sweet time, taking long, slow steps towards the set of computers in the middle of the room. Tony dramatically rolled his eyes, “You wanna hurry that up, slothman? I don’t have all day.” 

The man sat down behind the monitors, lacing his fingers together, leaning so his elbows rested on the table. He smirked at Tony, not saying a word. “Oh, very dramatic. A man after my own heart,” Tony joked, and without losing his playful smile, asked, “So, don’t you think it’s kind of a bad idea to hold three superheroes in glass prisons?” The metal (vibranium?) bands around their wrists and ankles were attached to metal boards, sort of like operating tables, with a curved glass barrier around the front. They each had a separate one, and they reminded Tony of the cryo tubes HYDRA would freeze the Winter Soldiers in. Glancing at Bucky’s expressionless face, Tony wondered if he was thinking the same thing. 

The man laughed a bit, “Oh, that’s not glass. So really, Mr. Stark, you do have all day. You have all the time in the world.” 

“We come from the land of the ice and snow,” Tony had stopped humming and had started actually singing the lyrics. Way off key. 

“For fuck’s sake, SHUT UP!” Steve was pointedly ignoring the man, glaring at Tony. 

“Language,” Tony smirked. He was also ignoring the man. He had just opened his mouth to make another remark when he let out an ear-splitting scream. White hot pain laced down his spine, his back arching from the electricity. Apparently the cuffs doubled as torture devices. 

As the pain faded a bit, Tony slowly lifted his head to give the man a death glare. He spoke again, his voice level, appearing calm, “My name is Ubiytsa. Welcome to my kingdom.” The man- Ubiytsa- threw his arms out, reminding Tony of how he flaunted his wealth at benefit shows. 

“Ubiytsa?” Bucky snorted, his laugh mirthful, his eyes still cold, “That literally just means killer. It’s not very impressive.” 

“Wait seriously? Because, buddy, you gotta work on the flair.” Tony kept his expressions moving, his voice loud to distract Killer or whatever from his hands, where he was attempting to remove the cuffs. “I mean, Captain America is bad, but Killer just seems lazy.” 

“Hey!” Steve kept his voice loud too, pulling forward on the cuffs like he wanted to come after Tony. His eyes kept flicking to Tony’s hands. “It’s patriotic.” 

“More like idiotic.” Tony had two screws out. 

“If you must know,” Ubiytsa paused to stare at Bucky, “My full name is Ubiytsa Svobody.”

Tony glanced at Bucky’s face, trying to gauge his reaction. 

“Freedom Killer,” Bucky whispered. He kept his unblinking gaze on Ubiytsa, whose name seemed just that much more intimidating. “You are well known.” 

Tony and Steve exchanged a look. Bucky really only remembered the asset handlers, and usually only the particularly cruel ones. Ubiytsa had not been in Bucky’s file, meaning Bucky only knew him from word of mouth. Ubiytsa must be bad. 

“So like, is that your real name?” Tony tended to break awkward silences with his jokes. Why should it be any different when he was chained to a metal slab? “Cause’ no offense, but your parents were a bit…” Tony whisted, rolling his eyes, still wanting attention away from his hands. Just three more screws. They really should make them harder to take out. 

“I have someone for you to meet. You should recognize him.” As Ubiytsa motioned to his left, the door scraped open again, a figure strolling in. Tony would say man, but he was short, and painfully thin. His clothes were tight fitting, in what could be mistaken as black at first, but were actually shades of the darkest reds and blues Tony had ever seen. His hair was brown and curly, but unkempt and dirty. “You have spent lots of time with my spider here, haven’t you, Tony?” 

The boy- Tony could confidently say boy, he couldn’t be older than twenty- stood stiffly at Ubiytsa’s side, his hands curled into fists. His fingers seemed to be shaking. “Doesn’t ring a bell. Are you psychos keeping kids at HYDRA now?” 

“Peter wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t taken him first, Tony.” Ubiytsa was smiling now, a self-satisfied smirk that made Tony’s breaths come in short bursts of fury. “Do you really not recognize him?” 

There was a long pause, Tony studying the kid’s face. Could he have been sent into the Tower on a tour or something? 

“Should we?” Steve finally asked. The boy’s- Peter’s- hands were definitely shaking. His face was still stony, staring in between Tony and Steve. 

“Why don’t you show them, Peter?” Peter’s eyes flicked to Ubiytsa’s face, his eyes asking a question Tony didn’t understand. “They’re all chained up over there. They can’t hurt you.” The last statement was said in a stage whisper. Ubiytsa wanted them to hear. Peter didn’t. Why? 

Peter’s right hand uncurled, his fingers digging under the skin tight fabric. As Peter pulled his sleeve up, Tony could hear quiet gasps from Steve and Bucky. On his left wrist, there was a mass of marred skin, raised red scabs that looked old, but just as bad as if they were new. A brand, made with something hotter than just a fire poker. A brand, in the shape of the Avenger’s “A”. There were thin white lines criss crossing over it. Not like Peter had tried to scrape off the scarred skin, but like he had been trying to disfigure the disfigurement. 

“What the hell.” Tony was done joking. The brand was a few years old at least. A person that could do that to a kid… “How could you do that to someone so young.” 

Peter let out a snort, glaring at Tony before stiffening again at a look from Ubiytsa. The man smiled, nodding at Peter. “Ask yourself, Stark.” His voice made him seem so much younger. The hatred in it made him seem older. And somehow, Tony got the feeling he should be scared of the underfed boy. 

“Why would… What do you mean?” Tony was almost afraid to ask. 

Peter smirked, “You really don’t remember. I guess you do need that reactor to replace a heart.” He didn’t elaborate. 

“Are you implying that the Avengers did that?” Bucky asked, his eyes trained on the kid’s left arm, the sleeve pulled down again. “Have you met the Avengers?”

“Who says I’m implying anything?” Ubiytsa was still smiling. “But my spider here is your new worst nightmare.” Ubiytsa typed something on the computers, and a projection popped up on the wall behind him. It appeared to be a normal office building, but as Tony looked closer, most of the employees were carrying handguns and badges. A SHIELD base. Was that Agent Hill walking past the camera? “You’re in for a show, Tony.” Peter was pulling a mask over his head, in that same almost-black red. He flexed his fingers as he pulled on gloves. “Comms on?” Ubiytsa said to the boy, who nodded. “Sick ‘em.” Peter gave a salute. Tony wasn’t sure if it was a joke or not. 

“Enjoy,” the boy said towards Tony before walking up the back wall. Straight up it, like a lizard. The window opened out. Good to know. Peter looked down before some white string sort of thing shot out of his wrist and he swung himself up into a silent helicopter. 

Ubiytsa closed the window and stood by the door. “I’ll leave you to the show.” It screeched open and closed. Tony, Steve, and Bucky were alone. 

\---

It was at least a good hour before anything happened in the projection. Tony had begun to wonder if Ubiytsa was just trying to sike them out. But no, the employees on the projection were taking cover, their hands flying over their heads. The explosion rocked the camera, what appeared to be glass flying across the pixelated room. 

“Shit, what’s happening?” Tony asked, knowing full well nobody had answers. Steve made a strangled sort of noise, hypnotized by the destruction on-screen. There was a dark figure stalking across the screen, slamming SHIELD agents into the walls with some weird stringy stuff. Most of them seemed to be bleeding, their heads slamming into the walls hard. 

“Is that the kid that was in here?” Bucky asks quietly, nails digging into his palms. 

“Christ on a bicycle, I think it is,” Tony murmurs. 

The figure could be Peter. His weird, skintight suit had appeared black at first, and from what Tony could make out on the pixelated screen, the agents were stuck to the wall with the same stuff he had shot out of his wrist. 

“Do you think they restarted the…” Steve paused to glance at Bucky, “You know, the program?” 

Bucky nodded slightly, “Maybe. He seemed too small to be a supersoldier.” 

“Plus the wall thing,” Tony said. 

“New serum?”

Tony nodded, “Must be. I’m pretty sure we destroyed all the samples of the old one.” 

“That was a kid,” Bucky narrowed his eyes at the door Ubiytsa had entered and left through, “Pretty sure isn’t good enough.” 

Tony froze as a screw fell out of his hand and onto the ground. It echoed in the loud room. After a few moments of tense silence, Steve and Bucky resumed talking, rather louder than they usually did. Tony game them a tense smile, carefully pulling the right cuff off the board. With an entirely free hand, the left side came off quicker. Tony set the two cuffs down quietly, frantically loosening the bands on his feet. 

“Wait Tony, listen,” Steve said. 

Footsteps coming down the hall. It sounded like someone limping. Not even limping, fully dragging one leg behind them. 

“I’m almost out, once I break this glass I can get you guys out with that computer. I don’t have time to waste,” Tony set down the left foot band. Only one more. 

“Look at the screen,” Bucky murmured, “Where’d he go?” 

Tony kept working as Steve said, “It looks like he got all the Agents. Do you think they’re dead?” 

“Maybe. The guy just above the logo, yeah there, he’s moving. But where’s the kid?”

“He’s probably on his way back. Finished the mission or whatever.” 

“Hurry up, Stark.” 

The limping footsteps were getting too close for comfort. 

The last cuff came off with a pop. Tony shot a grin at his companions, “Alrighty, let’s blow this popsicle stand.” 

He pulled his fist back, bracing his left hand on the glass. Anticipating some bloody knuckles, Tony closed his eyes a bit. He slammed his fist into the glass with all his strength. It made a loud, dull sort of thunk. Loud. The footsteps stopped just outside the door. 

“What the hell?” Steve said. 

“I know you’re weak, Stark, but I didn’t think that weak.” 

“Thanks, Buck,” Tony groaned, cradling his sore hand, “I don’t think I broke it.” 

“We shouldn’t have expected normal glass,” Steve sighed, “This is HYDRA.” 

“Yeah, but I was hoping I could at least-” Tony cut himself off with a shush, pointing at the door. A second set of footsteps was approaching.

The new footsteps stopped at the door as well. There was a quiet voice, it was hard to hear through the thick door. It sounded something like “sir”. Then, a loud slap. Tony winced, that had to have hurt if it was so easy to hear through all the metal. A voice, a bit louder than the first, but Tony still had to concentrate to hear.  
“The mission was to kill! Most of them were still alive! Some weren’t even injured! I expect you to do your mission next time. Understand?” 

There was a pause. Tony held his breath, not wanting to miss the answer. 

Another loud slap, “I said, understand?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

\--

As the door began to scream open again, not a minute after the overheard conversation, Tony realized he should at least try to make it look like he was still chained up. The most he could do with so little time was hold the wrist shackles back up with his hands. He just had to hope they wouldn’t look at his feet. 

Just as Tony got them up, Ubiytsa walked in, followed by Peter, mask in hand. 

“Jesus kid, how are you walking on that?” Tony said, trying to comically change his facial expressions, draw attention away from the ground, away from his hands.  
“Merely a flesh wound,” Ubiytsa responded, “Something all strong warriors know how to deal with.” 

“You know, I do fly around in a bulletproof suit, I’ve never tried to say I’m actually strong.” Tony paused, trying to ask Steve to take some of the attention with a glance, “Also, I wouldn’t consider bone sticking out of your leg something you just walk off.” 

Peter’s left shin was clean snapped, the bone sticking out of his leg at an odd angle. 

“I suppose, if it makes out guests squeamish, you should fix that up, little spider,” Ubiytsa said, gesturing at Peter’s leg. 

“No, no I’m fine, really.” Peter’s voice was quiet, but obviously panicked. Tony realized too late there was probably a reason the kid was scared.  
“Anything for our guests, Peter.” Ubiytsa stretched a smile across his face, “You wouldn’t want to be a rude host.” 

Peter’s eyes darted to Ubiytsa, then the wall opposite the huge door. “No, yeah, of course.” He shifted onto his unharmed leg, leaning down a bit, his hands around his leg.  
“Kid, don’tcha wanna sit down or like, get a doctor?” Tony asked. 

“He can do it himself,” Ubiytsa said, his smile growing more. 

Peter nodded a bit, quickly moving the bone back into his leg. He began to move his weight back onto both legs, grimacing slightly. He gave Ubiytsa a split-second strained smile, then went back to staring a hole in the floor. 

“He should really get medical attention,” Steve said. 

Took him long enough to take some of the attention, Tony thought. 

“No, no, look, it’s all better now, you can barely see a mark,” Ubiytsa was like the goddamn Cheshire Cat, how much wider could he possibly smile. But in truth, there was still a huge red gash on Peter’s leg, and you could still see the bone. 

“Except there kinda… is,” Tony said. 

“I don’t see anything,” Ubiytsa said, raising his eyebrows. “But, moving on, I’ve got a busy schedule with our guests today, Pete. Why don’t you head to the training room?” 

Peter looked up at Ubiytsa’s chin, “I-I thought that maybe- uh- that maybe the fight would- uh- count as todays- uh- training, maybe.” 

“Excuse me?” 

Peter stiffened, “Like- like- give my leg- uh- some time- just today- uh- to heal?” 

“Oh yes, yes, of course!” Ubiytsa gave a small laugh, “But that won’t be necessary any longer.” 

“Oh,” Peter’s eyes darted up to Ubiytsa’s eyes, then back to his chin, “Why- uh- why not?” 

Ubiytsa gave a loud, fake laugh, “Well, you’re all healed up now!” He gestured Peter out of the room, “Off to training now, little spider."

Peter’s hands were shaking as he opened the door. 

\--

“Alone at last,” Ubiytsa said, leaning back in his chair. 

“Okay dude, I’m done with joking.” Tony’s fingers were cramping from holding up the shackles, “Who the hell was that kid and why is he here?” 

Steve nodded, “He didn’t seem brainwashed.” 

“He wasn’t,” Bucky said, “But we all know he isn’t doing this by choice.” 

Ubiytsa chuckled, “Oh, but he is. He hates the Avengers and SHIELD with a passion.” 

“Why,” Steve asked, “We don’t kill or torture people, we don’t do any unethical experiments. Unlike HYDRA.” 

“Maybe not,” Ubiytsa really needed to stop smiling like that, “But you did kidnap and torture him for a year.”


	2. I Went Too Far

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I went too far when I was begging on my knees
> 
> Begging for your arms, for you to hold around me
> 
> I went too far and kissed the ground beneath your feet
> 
> Waiting for your love, waiting for our eyes to meet

Peter let himself limp once he was out of Ubiytsa’s sight. He was dreading the hard hours to come. His healing factor was good, but not good enough for his leg to have even started healing by training. He silently cursed Iron Man for making him set it. If he had just kept his mo0uth shut, Peter would have had at least two hours for it to be firm enough to only give him a limp for a few days. 

He glanced into a lab, moving on when he saw some Agents. The next one was also full, and the next, and the next. Two had people strapped to the surgery tables. One was a SHIELD Agent. Peter always felt a slight satisfaction when he saw any in the base. They deserved what they got. He only felt a slight empathy when he saw the second, a young girl stuck with IVs and her stomach opened. She was awake. He couldn’t afford too much emotion though. The girl would get used to it soon enough. Not now, but soon. 

The fifth lab he passed was empty. Moving quickly, knowing what would happen if he got caught, he pulled a few strips of cloth out of a drawer below the stained operation table. Enhanced hearing strained for anyone coming down the hall, Peter quickly ties the cloth around his leg, tight enough to hold for now. 

He slips back into the hall just as a few scientists round the corner. He gives them a slight nod, his head bowed in respect and fear. One smirks at his limp, no matter how much Peter tried to disguise it. The man delivered a sharp hit to the leg with a baton he was holding. They laughed when Peter stumbled. 

Biting back a grimace, Peter picked up his pace. He’s close to being late. It was only a minute before when he stumbles into the training room. “I’m sorry,” he gasped to Demyan, the trainer. 

“I will excuse today.” Demyan smirked at Peter’s bound leg, “After all, there was a mission.” 

“Thank you,” Peter bowed his head more, “thank you.”  
“It is of no consequence,” Demyan claps once, “Let us train. I think perhaps we should work on flipping an opponent with one leg, instead of just sparring today.” 

Peter gave a forced smile, sure he would re-break his leg at least twice, “Sounds good.” 

\--

Peter barely got an hour of sleep after training. His leg was fragile, but if he was careful he could keep it from breaking again during fights, and his wrist was completely healed from when he landed on it in training. While an hour was not nearly enough time to heal, his factor was good enough to at least attach the bones again. 

He woke to Demyan shouting into his ‘room’. Really, it was a sense deprivation chamber, but unless he was confined for a few days it was actually kind of nice. Quiet. 

“Get up, boy!” Demyan’s voice was naturally loud, so it didn’t take much for it to be almost deafening, “Boss wants you in the office.” 

Peter jumped to his feet, trying to keep weight off his just-healed leg. “Now?” 

“Five minutes ago,” Demyan barked, yanking Peter out of his room by the collar. 

Peter stumbled a bit, but he didn’t have time to waste as he ran up to Command Center. Demyan sometimes waited a bit to fetch Peter so that Ubiytsa would be mad. Most of the Agents liked to see Peter hurt. He told himself it was because he was so high-ranked at just fifteen. Yeah, that’s why. They were just jealous, they’re good people. 

It took Peter a few seconds to steady his breathing by the huge metal door. Taking a deep breath, he rapped on the steel, the sound echoing too loudly in the hall. There was a small electric shock at his wrist, the signal Ubiytsa used to get him to obey or, in this case, report to the man. 

The grisly screech as the door opens always makes Peter flinch a bit. It’s too loud for his hearing. He squares his shoulders and evens his gait as he enters, though. There’s no room for weakness in this room, especially now that the Avengers were in it. 

“You called for me, sir?” Peter asked, his head bowed despite his perfect posture. 

Ubiytsa grins at the top of the boy’s head, “Yes, yes, I wanted to show our guests a little something special, and I need your help.” 

Peter lifts his eyes to Ubiytsa’s face, careful to avoid his eyes, “Help?” 

“Yes, little spider,” Ubiytsa laughed, “You see, our guests don’t know how strong you’ve become. It has been a few years now.” 

“Was the mission not enough?” Peter asked, trying to keep his fear out of his voice. He was trying not to look at the prisoners. No matter if they’re locked up, he can’t hide his fear of them. 

“I want to show them some close-up action,” Ubiytsa said, amusement showing in his smile. He claps twice, and four huge soldiers march in. “I was thinking we have a little sparring match in here.” 

“Oh-okay,” Peter stammered. Four against one was never fun, “Could I get a little more space, maybe?” 

“Oh, of course, here let me just…” Ubiytsa tapped a few buttons on his computer, and the three glass pods slid backwards. The Asset and Captain America were moved smoothly, still bound as they were. But Iron Man was walking backwards with the movement. Peter stepped back, fear flashing across his face as he realized Iron Man wasn’t chained up. 

Peter looked up at Ubiytsa, speaking in a low voice, “Uh, sir, Iron Man is free.” 

“Yes, I know,” Ubiytsa said, “He’s been unbound for hours. He can’t get past the glass.” 

Peter’s brow pinched, a question on the tip of his tongue. 

“It’s not glass, you see. Indestructible,” Ubiytsa assured. “But come, now enough stalling. How much sleep have you gotten in the past forty-eight hours?” 

Based on the guards outside his room before and after training… “About an hour, I think.” 

“Ah, wonderful, you do need your rest.” 

“Hold up there, hippie parents,” Iron Man said, his voice muffled, “It’s kinda hard to hear from all the way over here, but did that kid just say he’s had an hour of sleep in the last two days?” 

“That’s quite a lot, don’t you think?” Ubiytsa chuckled, “And Tony, you can take your arms down. You can’t leave anyways.” 

“My arms- what? Oh, yeah,” Iron Man said, dropping the cuffs on the floor, “But really, the kid needs sleep.” 

“Especially if he’s going to be fighting all those guys,” Captain America added. Peter was really wishing he could just leave. 

“No, no,” Ubiytsa pushed Peter into the open floor, “My itsy bitsy spider is stronger than he looks.” 

The four guards formed a semi-circle across from Peter, who drops into a fighting stance. In the background, he could hear Captain America and Iron Man whispering about his leg. Right, his leg. Peter webbed the gash in his suit closed, wrapping the webbing around the back of his shin too, hoping it would help it from breaking yet again. He really needed more healing time. 

“Ready, boys?” Ubiytsa asked. Peter circleed his wrist, rubbing where he sprained it. “пойдите для его левой ноги.” 

“Asshole,” the Asset spat. 

“What did he say,” whispered Captain America. Peter watched the Asset out of the corner of his eye. Ubiytsa had never deemed to teach him Russian. 

“He told them to-” the Asset cut off with a strangled squeak. The cuffs were electrocuting him. Peter glanced at Ubiytsa, who was glaring at the Asset. Message received, loud and clear, Peter was not to know what was said. 

“Come on, enough chit-chat,” Ubiytsa pointed at Peter and the guards, “Go.” 

The largest guard made the first move, lunging at Peter with a long knife. He was bumbling, clumsy. Obviously, he had not been trained. At least, not as well as Peter. The boy boosted off his right foot and dropped to his knees, grabbing the guard’s leg and flipping him onto the ground. He webbed the man to the ground without looking. 

Stepping forward, the second man nodded at the last two and leveled a knife at Peter. He’s a bit more skilled than the first, but still no match for the boy. Peter shot a web at the man’s face and pulls him down, then easily jumps on his back, knocking him to the ground. Peter smirks a little, it was almost too easy. 

Too easy indeed. It happened right as Peter webbed the second guard to the floor. One man shoved Peter onto the floor and the other stepped on his weak leg, snapping it clean in half. 

Peter, in a moment of weakness, let out a whimper. The man who had pulled him down raised a dagger above his head, ready to strike down. Peter could hear the prisoners muttering about him. He grinned at the man, webbing his hand and yanking it down, in turn lifting Peter up. He easily flipped onto one of the ceiling beams and dispatched the final two men from there. 

Careful to only land on his unbroken leg, Peter jumps to the ground. He goes to release the men, but Ubiytsa stops him, “No, little spider, they lost. Let them wait it out.” 

Peter give the guards an apologetic smile, then walks over to stand by Ubiytsa, barely managing not to limp. “Satisfied, sir?” 

Ubiytsa dropped a heavy hand on Peter’s shoulder, “I am, but how about our guests?” 

Peter reluctantly looked up at the three prisoners. Iron Man was sitting cross-legged on the ground, expressionless. Captain America was openly gaping at Peter and his leg. Of course, the Asset showed no emotion. He was well trained, before he went rogue. 

“What say you, guests?” asked Ubiytsa. 

“I say, Freedom Killer” Iron Man began, leaning forward as if he had a secret to share, “You are a sadist asshole.” 

Ubiytsa laughed heartily, “The judges gave a bad score, little spider. Again.” Peter nodded, moving to the floor when Ubiytsa stopped him, “Without the shooters this time.” 

Peter took a deep breath and snapped off his web-shooters, “Same guards?”

“Those four…” Ubiytsa pressed a finger to his ear, “plus one.” On cue, another enormous guard marches in. Peter stifles a groan and resets his leg. It’s going to be a long night. 

\--

Peter doesn’t lose a single fight. In a long, long couple of hours, the number of opponents had increased to seventeen, but he still had never lost. He had temporarily lost the use of his right arm, broken at the wrist and dislocated the shoulder, and his left leg still hadn’t healed a bit. 

At the end of his latest fight, he sat on the cool floor, panting. The prisoners hadn’t said a word for a while. It was hard to tell time in the command room. Still, after each fight Ubiytsa had asked, “What say you, guests?” 

Iron Man cursed him out every time. Captain America begged for Ubiytsa to stop for a while, but they had eventually fallen silent. 

“Alright, itsy bitsy, I think we’ve given them a show,” Ubiytsa threw Peter’s web-shooters back to him, “You have four hours.” 

Peter watched Ubiytsa and all the guards exit the room before he moved. He groaned quietly as he re-located his shoulder and leaned to grab the web-shooters. “Kid, you okay?” Iron Man asked. Peter very pointedly didn’t respond, nor even look at the man. 

“If you can see someone’s bones, they aren’t okay, Tin Man,” snapped the Asset. That made Peter turn around. The Asset was not supposed to speak, the Asset was not supposed to have emotions and he was most definitely not supposed to show them. 

Peter’s confusion must have shown on his face because Captain America gently said, “This isn’t a life, Peter. This is torture, it’s not right.” 

Peter snaps his web-shooters on and wraps up his leg, sending a glare at Captain America, “This is training. You are the ones who torture.” 

Captain America was about to say something else, but the Asset beat him to it, “We’ve never met you before. Whatever they told you, whatever memories they gave you, they’re fake.” 

Peter pulled the door open, sending the Asset a sickly sweet smile, “Whatever the Avengers have told you is fake. HYDRA’s the good guys.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I'm supposed to update weekly, but I'm home sick today and did this instead of make-up work. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! Tell me what you think in the comments! 
> 
> I stole the idea of song titles as chapter titles, with lyrics as the summary from TheQueenOfWhump so shoutout, I guess. 
> 
> Also, how are the chapter lengths?
> 
> Also also, Ubiytsa says in Russian something along the lines of "Go for his left leg."


	3. Impossible Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s never air to breathe
> 
> There’s never in-betweens
> 
> These nightmares always hang on past the dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I didn't post on Sunday, it's been a long week. 
> 
> Also sorry it's a bit shorter.

_ Peter tugged against the bonds on his wrists. The door slid open, the broad figure of Captain America stalking through. He said something, but it was muffled, like he was speaking underwater.  _

 

It’s not real. 

 

_ Captain America held up a red-hot rod, the end in the shape of an ‘A’ with an arrow. Peter thrashed against his bonds with a panicked insistence, hoping he had misread the Captain’s intentions.  _

 

It’s not real, it’s a dream, it’s not real. 

 

_ The Captain sliced through the fabric on Peter’s wrist with a small knife. He lowered the brand closer to Peter’s wrist. Peter desperately tried to move his arm. The boy heard a small laugh, and looks up to a smiling face.  _

 

What. 

 

_ It wasn’t Captain America’s face. It looked like one of the scientists from the labs downstairs- the ones with the operation tables.  _

 

It’s a dream. 

 

_ Then the brand drops onto Peter’s arms and it’s just pain. Pain, pain, so much pain. His whole body is on fire, the flames spreading from his wrist, he’s burnt up with the agony. Even when it stops, it doesn’t. The heat is trapped for so much longer. The fire never truly left. And when Peter looked up again, panting, Captain America is back.  _

 

Peter screamed awake, clamping a hand over his mouth in a fraction of a second. While he can’t hear anything from inside his room, the guards could certainly hear him and they like the quiet. The door stayed firmly shut for a few moments, and Peter put his hand down. 

 

In the obsidian silence, Peter let his mind drift back to his nightmare. He dreams about that moment too often, his memory as scarred as his wrist. He told himself it was just a dream, his mind doing funny things with the faces. 

 

But as he thought more, his memories seemed… different somehow. Captain America’s hair was blond, but Peter remembered it darker, more brown. What color were his eyes? Peter remembered brown. Brown eyes, staring mirthfully down at Peter’s pain. Brown eyes. What color are his eyes? 

 

\-- 

 

Peter wasn’t sure how long he had been asleep, and he didn’t dare to ask. He could try to sleep more, but he didn’t want to miss another meal. It seemed his stomach was always empty now.

 

Luckily, he didn’t have long to wait. Well, he may have, but the time seemed to go by pretty fast. He lay in a haze, not wanting to have to think about anything. Not the dream. Not the prisoners. Not the Asset and his emotions. He just lay, and let himself heal. 

 

From what he could feel in the dark, the bone his leg was almost fully attached again. If he could avoid getting it snapped again in training, it would be good as new. However, knowing Ubiytsa, there would be another show for the prisoners. 

 

A tray was slid through the door, accompanied by a sharp bark of “Ten minutes!” 

 

Peter ate like he was starved, and knocked twice on the wall to let the guards know he was finished. One grabbed the tray and the other pulled Peter up by the arm, shoving him out the door. 

 

“Boss wants you at Command.” The guards changed every hour, and Peter was sure Ubiytsa had said he had four hours, but it had been at least five. This shift was one of the nicer pairs. 

 

Peter nodded at the man and started walking down the hallway. He didn’t even have a limp to hide this time. His leg still hurt, but there was never a time where nothing hurt, and Peter had learned to take what he could get. 

 

The boy greeting with a harsher volt than usual at the door. Perhaps the guards were less kind than he thought, and had woken him up late? It was more likely Ubiytsa was just reminding him how kind it was to have had more time to sleep. Peter pushed open the door before he could waste any more time wondering. 

 

“Ah, little spider!” Ubiytsa greeted Peter jovially, “Apologies for the long wait, this thing is heavier than it looks!” 

 

“No way,” Peter breathed, “Do I get to-” 

 

Ubiytsa clapped a heavy hand on Peter’s shoulder, “Yes! I need you to replicate  _ that  _ reactor.” 

 

Peter let his guard down for a second and smiled. Only for a second, and it was gone, “How long?”

 

“However long you need,” Ubiytsa said, guiding Peter towards the Iron Man suit, “Would eighteen hours be enough?” 

 

“Yes, yes I think so.” Peter traced the outside of the arc reactor, although he was sure he could do it in at most three. 

 

“Excellent!” Ubiytsa patted Peter’s shoulder again and left the room, “I’ll be back then.” 

 

Once Peter was alone, he allowed himself to smile. Being able to take apart the arc reactor was a dream come true, and he was a science nerd at heart. Really, he was more interested in biology and chemistry and the sort, but there was no need of more researchers in that department. It’s not like Peter had a choice anyway. 

 

“Kid, there’s better ways to get into mechanics than working for literal Nazis,” Iron Man said. The smile slipped off Peter’s face. He had forgotten about the prisoners in his excitement. Well, he had forgotten they were in the room. 

 

Pointedly trying to ignore Iron Man, Peter began to carefully take the reactor out of the suit. He needed it in perfect condition to replicate it. As it slid out, he could feel it heating up. He turned it over, switching a few wires and disabling the self-destruct in a few seconds. 

 

“That was actually really impressive, kid,” Iron Man said, leaning forward from his spot on the floor, “How smart  _ are _ you?” 

 

“Smarter than you,” Peter muttered, trying to keep his hands steady. 

 

“Then tell me, why doesn’t HYDRA already have arc reactor tech?” Iron Man smirked, “Why did you have to wait to copy my design?” 

 

Peter cocked his head, “We do.” He moved to Ubiytsa’s computer desk, pulling a small songbird out from under it. It appeared real enough, but was mechanical. It moved as smoothly as a real bird, and if painted well enough would pass for a living one if not for the glowing circle in it’s back.  

 

“Why is there a bird in here?” asked Captain America, “That’s really random.” 

 

Peter tossed the robot into the air and it flew over to one of the ceiling beams above the prisoners. “That’s Pabla. He’s powered by a mini arc reactor.” 

 

“Okay but what about my AI?” Iron Man was obviously impressed. 

 

“Don’t need one,” Peter said, “I made Pabla about six, seven years ago.” 

 

Iron Man looked away from the bird and back to Peter, “So why do you need my suit if you already have the tech?” 

 

Peter’s eyes seemed to be laughing, but his face was still expressionless. He didn’t reply, simply sat on the floor and continued taking apart the reactor. It was more advanced than Pabla’s version, but Peter could easily replicate it. 

 

He barely needed an hour before he had a perfectly working replica. It took him another hour and a half to hook it up to two of his own repulsors. He had made gloves that could rival the power of Iron Man’s own suit repulsors in just under three hours. 

 

Iron Man had been sleeping, giving Peter some blissful quiet. The Asset and Captain America talked a bit every once in a while, quiet whispers. Peter could have heard what they said with his enhanced hearing, but he really didn’t want to. 

 

Peter’s hands were itching to test out the gloves, but he had to wait like eleven hours. If the guards outside heard a big blast, they would come in, and Peter couldn’t afford that. Gently setting down the gloves, Peter snuck over to the computer. His hearing strained to listen in the hallway, he began to hack the servers. 

 

Since it was Ubiytsa’s computer, he only needed to bypass the passcode and iris scan before he was in. Before he could get caught up with all the information at his fingertips, Peter opened the Captain America folder. He wasn’t looking for much, just a photo… there! A headshot of Captain America (aka Steve Rogers). Peter hadn’t known his name before. Normal names made them seem less evil. 

 

Peter zoomed in on his eyes. Blue. Blue eyes. Peter was certain his eyes were brown, so why did the photo show blue? Blue eyes, blue eyes. 

 

As Peter thought back, the Captain’s face wasn’t really focused in his memories. Just a general sense of blond hair and broad shoulders. The one thing he could remember clearly was the eyes, brown eyes. 

 

Peter pointed at Captain America, “What color are his eyes?” 

 

Captain America furrowed his brow, “What?” 

 

Something clicked in the Asset’s eyes, “Why?” 

 

“What color are his eyes?” Peter asked again, hurriedly closing out of the folder as he heard footsteps down the hall. 

 

The Asset smirked, “Why do you want to know?” 

 

Peter jumped over the desk, the footsteps pounding in his ears, the small smile glaring in his eyes, skidding up in front of Captain America. Blue eyes. Blue, blue, blue. 

 

Peter backed away, just sitting by the gloves when Ubiytsa walked in. “Any progress?” The man asked, not looking up from some papers he was holding. 

 

“A bit,” Peter said, for once hoping Ubiytsa would look up. 

 

He did, smiling when he saw the gloves, “Oh, look at those beauties. Have they been tested?” 

 

“Not yet,” Peter slipped on the too-big gloves, aiming them at the far wall. Ubiytsa stepped back, an appraising look on his face. “The amount of power depends on how your hand is positioned. This would be full power,” Peter held up a hand, fingers splayed, “And it just gets less and less like this,” Peter slowly curled his fingers towards his palm, “It’s really sensitive, so you have to be careful if you’re doing something that needs really low or high power.” Ubiytsa nodded, gesturing at the wall. 

 

“That’s… actually a really good design,” Iron Man said, apparently having woken up again. 

 

Peter fired a blast at the wall, at first full power, slowly reducing it to nothing. Ubiytsa grinned, “He’s our best mechanic. Give that to Demyan, little spider. Take twelve hours.” 

 

“Thank you,” Peter said, slipping the gloves off. He glanced at Captain America one last time as he left the room. Blue eyes. 

 

\--

 

Ubiytsa winked at Tony once the kid left the room, but followed out the door without a word. Tony opened his mouth to say something, anything, but Steve beat him to it. 

 

“What happened there, Buck?” Steve’s eyes were unfocused, but he turned his head to look at Bucky. 

 

“I think…” Bucky swallowed a few times, “I think they gave him false memories.” 

 

“We need some elaboration,” Tony said. He wasn’t sure how to joke when the trauma wasn’t his own. 

 

Bucky looked Steve in the eye, “They tried it on me once. They kept messing the eyes up. They were always brown, not blue.” 

 

Tony began to have an idea of what was going on, “Messing the eyes up?” 

 

“Yeah. They would make a memory, like a HYDRA agent beating me up, and then modify it in my mind to be Steve and not an agent.” Bucky took a long, shuddering breath, still staring resolutely into Steve’s eyes, “But they always just left the eyes brown, like most of the agents here. They were never blue.” 

 

It dawned on Tony then, “So the kid, you think-” 

 

“They want him scared of us,” Bucky said, “But the memories are breaking apart. If he can recognize it was HYDRA and not us… he might be able to help us out of here.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Leave comments and kudos, it motivates me!
> 
> Am I writing these characters okay? I don't want to completely butcher them. 
> 
> Give me your encouragement! Recommend songs that match the mood!


	4. Below My Feet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And I was still 
> 
> I was under your spell
> 
> When I was told all must be well
> 
> So all must be well
> 
>  
> 
> ~Mumford & Sons~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, guys. 
> 
> It's a bit longer than the others, though. And action-packed!
> 
> I kinda went off my whole plan, but I'm loving it tbh
> 
> I apologize in advance.

Peter dreamed again that night. Or day- he never really knew. It wasn’t his normal dreams, his nightmares. Strangely, he didn’t really know what it was.

 

_Lavender and honey._

 

He could smell it, but he was sure he’d never smelled lavender or honey in his life. It always smelled of bleach and metal at home. His dream smelled softer, nolgastic in a way.

 

_A strong embrace, a soft pink shirt._

 

Everything was white and black and red and silver here. Shining clean or dark to hide blood and light and tears. Peter couldn’t remember the last time he’d been hugged. Soft was never a word he would use to describe anything, really. His uniform was scratchy and sharp and the shocker at his wrists dug below the skin. He had never felt any of the agent’s uniforms.

 

_Deep laughter, sunlight through lime-green leaves._

 

Nobody laughed like that at home. Emotions were mostly frowned upon, and the only laughter was when Peter got hurt or shoved down. It had never sounded so… happy. He rarely saw any of the outside world. Where would he get an image like that? Most of his missions were under the cover of darkness, and he had no time to look at leaves.

 

_Burnt lasagna, more laughter._

 

How did Peter even know what burnt lasagna smelled like? And the laughter! It was bright, feminine. All the women Peter knew were brash and fierce and would never let their hair down or wear a skirt. They would never laugh, never mind like that.

 

_Lavender and shaving cream, another embrace._

 

Shaving cream he knew. The smell lingered in a cloud around Ubiytsa. Peter thought it an awful scent, as it came with anger and constant disappointment and punishment. Mixed with lavender though, it seemed kinder, familiar.

 

How long had it been since he had any water? It must have been a while, he was surely going insane.

 

Peter had no idea what lavender smells like. And now that he thought about it, he could remember Captain America’s blue eyes. He just needs a bit of water.

 

\--

 

Tony was basically in shock after the kid’s little show. He had built those gloves in less than three hours, and easily replicated the arc reactor in one. Not to mention how easily he had disarmed the self-destruct and that awesome little bird. Tony wasn’t sure if even he could make something that moved so naturally.

 

He had tried before, but all his creatures moved like robots, stiff and unnatural. How is it that he could make an AI but not a simple animal? He didn’t even have to give it a consciousness, just a simple running machine.

 

It was one of his only failures, not being able to make something move so smooth. And this kid, who couldn't be more than eighteen, had done it before him! He had made an arc reactor and built an actual passing bird, all while living in a goddamn HYDRA base. If the kid wasn’t practically a supervillain, Tony would hire him on the spot.

 

“Tony, you wanna share with the class?” Steve said, breaking the silence that had fallen after Ubiytsa and Peter had left.

 

“Yeah, was that as impressive as I thought it was?” Bucky asked.

 

Tony nodded, “That kid is a genius.”

 

“So the kid’s smart,” Bucky said, “He could still help us.”

 

“What if he doesn’t,” Steve sighed, “If he’s that smart, wouldn’t he have had this epiphany like, years ago?”

 

Tony shook his head, “If he grew up here, with Evil Hippie, I don’t think so.” He paused, licking his lips, “You want to trust the people who raise you.”

 

The second silence lasted longer than the first.

 

\--

 

The guards took to roughing Tony up every now and then about two days later. They must have thought Tony the easiest target, as they didn’t even try to touch the two super-soldiers. Tony was pretty sure it was just a spot of fun, as they never asked any questions. Never said anything at all.

 

Truthfully, Tony could’ve taken them, but he wanted to know why. Why had Ubiytsa captured them? Why had there been no questions? Why was there a kid there? Why, why, why.

 

“Anything broken?” asked Steve, having given up on asking if he was okay about three days before. Tony nodded curtly. “Why don’t you fight back, Tones? You could take them.”

 

“Unhhgghugh,” Tony said. He was in too much pain to properly craft an insult. Was that a piece of tooth in his mouth?

 

“Really, Stark,” Bucky gave him a half-hearted glare, “Just deck ‘em.”

 

Tony shook his head, spitting out a bit of blood, “Nah, gotta know why we’re here.”

 

Steve almost rolled his eyes, “It’s HYDRA, Tones. We’re here because they’re assholes.”

 

“ _Language_!”

 

\--

 

It was almost a week before they saw Ubiytsa again. Well, probably. Tony was counting the days based on the tiny glimpse of natural light he could see from the windows up near the ceiling, the ones Peter climbed out through that first night.

 

Tony barely muffled his groan when the door began to screech open again. He really wasn’t up for getting beat up again. It was getting kinda tiring. Of course, he wasn’t _happy_ to see Ubiytsa, so to say, but it was better than those dumb guards.

 

“Hello, boys,” Ubiytsa said as he stalked across the room. Villains never seemed to walk normally, it was _really annoying_.

 

Tony pulled the fakest smile he could manage, “Hippie Kid! My good friend, just who I wanted to see, what brings you here on this fine day?”

 

“Oh, not much, not much, dear friend,” Ubiytsa smirked, typing on his computer, “Just looking for some files to show you…”

 

“Can we just get to the point already,” Steve’s Cap face was actually a little bit scary, Tony had to admit, “What do you want from us?”

 

Ubiytsa clapped once, “Oh, I was hoping you would ask!”

 

There was a long pause and Bucky said, “Are you gonna tell us?”

 

“Oh yes, of course, forgive me if I’m a bit… distracted,” Ubiytsa flashed another smile at the trio, “I’m just going to… tell you my plans now.” 

 

“Well, it doesn’t matter what you want,” Tony said, “You’ve got no leverage. You have nothing.” 

 

“Nothing, yes…” Ubiytsa murmured, moving back out of the room.

 

Tony laughed a bit, “That was weird, right?”

 

\--

 

“What do you think he has on us?” Steve asked, for the fifth time that day.

 

Tony groaned. He had a headache, most likely because they hadn’t gotten any more food or water since Ubiytsa had come in. And Steve _wouldn’t stop talking_.

 

“We don’t know, Stevie,” Bucky said, half-heartedly glaring, “We don’t know.”

 

Tony shot up as the door started to open again. “Do you think he’s back?” Steve said, somewhat excitedly, “Do you think he’ll tell us?”

 

“Oh my God, _Steve_ ,” Tony was so fed up. How did Bucky put up with living with him? “We don’t _know_.”

 

“Hey!” Steve said as someone walked into the room, “Are you gonna tell us?”

 

It wasn’t Ubiytsa. Peter shot Steve a poison glare, but said nothing.

 

“Hey, kid,” Bucky said, his voice softer than usual, “How you doin’?”

 

“Better than you,” Peter drawled, smirking, “ _Asset_.”

 

Bucky grinned, “Well, I’m doing fan-fuckin-tastic so you must be over the moon.”

 

Peter hummed an affirmative as he slid behind Ubiytsa’s computer. He typed fast.

 

“What’cha doing?”

 

Peter still didn’t speak, just made another small noise and sent a wry smile at Bucky. Steve said something to Bucky, but it was too quiet for Tony to catch.

 

“You aren’t gonna freak out on us again are ya, kid?” Tony asked. Peter shook his head.

 

“Why did you-” Steve cut himself off when the door began to open yet again.

 

“Why did he what, Steve?” Ubiytsa asked. The man had impeccable timing.

 

Steve made a sort of choking noise. How he ever became a Captain was a mystery to Tony, he was terrible at improvisation. “Why did he built a new arc reactor when you could’ve just taken mine?” Tony said, rolling his eyes at Steve.

 

Ubiytsa snorted in a very not-villain-like way, “We aren’t telling you our plans, Tin Boy.”

 

“Shame, we bagged some super-villains with basic cognitive function.”

 

Peter looked up from the computer, nodded at Ubiytsa, and left the room. A slow smile spread across the man’s face, “Now the real fun can begin.”

 

\--

 

It took Ubiytsa a while to prepare for whatever he was going to do. He made a big show of bringing in more huge guards, and a pair of handcuffs that didn’t have screws or a keyhole.

 

“Ready, Tony?” Ubiytsa asked, his Cheshire-Cat grin back in full effect. He pressed something on his bracelet and the glass slid around behind the metal slab. Tony smiled, leisurely standing.

 

“Oh, I’m ready,” Tony said, immediately moving to attack. Two guards rushed him with the handcuffs and he sidestepped, punching one in the jaw and cleanly kicking the other’s knee backwards.

 

Ubiytsa laughed, “Bad idea, Tones.”

 

The guard he hit in the face grabbed Tony’s arm, twisting it backwards. A handcuff snapped on one wrist, but Tony jerked his arm up, knocking the guard down. Tony stomped on the guard’s face, knocking him out.

 

Knee still unnaturally bent backwards, the second guard stumbled towards Tony, a shaking fist aiming at his throat. He went down easy. Tony stood, smirking down at the man, an image of triumph. His nose was bloody and probably broken, his wrist was twisted and still caught by the handcuff, but he was standing.

 

Ubiytsa was clapping. Tony had forgotten about him. “Actually slightly impressive.”

 

“You’re next, sweetheart,” Tony smirked, spinning the loose handcuff around his wrist.

 

“No,” Ubiytsa matched his expression, “I’m really not.”

 

Agony.

 

He was white hot, he was living lightning, he was glowing, being ripped apart all at once.

 

He briefly wondered if Thor always felt this powerful.

 

Tony crumpled to the floor.

 

It was dark.

 

\--

 

After he had finally cleared his confusion, Peter had requested an audience with Ubiytsa. He had suggested trying to get Iron Man to work with HYDRA. With his genius, he thought maybe he had a serum that could work. It would take work and a ton of programming, but he was pretty confident in his idea.

 

“You really think you could do it?” Ubiytsa had asked. When Peter was more naive, he might have said with awe.   


“Maybe,” no matter how much Peter pleased Ubiytsa, he still couldn’t bring himself to look him in the eye. He wasn’t quite sure why. It was probably a respect thing. “It would take a lot of hours.”

 

Ubiytsa curtly nodded, “Use the command computer. You know what to stay out of.”

 

“Actually,” Peter said, wincing at his weak tone, “I was hoping to work somewhere else. The prisoners unsettle me, it would take more time.”

 

There was a long pause. Peter braced himself. “Okay. Use lab 34-RD.” Ubiytsa stode away.

 

\--

 

It was a long process. He wanted to give up for most of it. But slowly, slowly, he thought he had developed a serum that could erase Iron Man’s memories of his team, most of his adult life. He couldn’t erase the early childhood memories without messing with all the genius, but he could use that.

 

They could make up some story, amnesia or that they found him on the road or something. He would most likely assume Howard Stark had snapped and hit too hard.

 

It would make him malleable. HYDRA could always use another genius.

 

They could especially get behind getting rid of Iron Man for good.

 

Peter would get to work with his lifelong idol.

 

_What._

 

Peter didn’t even like Iron Man. He hated him.

 

He would never idolize him.

 

He would never work with him.

 

Peter hated Iron Man.

 

_He’s never been to a Stark Expo._

 

He hated Iron Man.

 

\--

 

The fuel to finish the serum was pure spite. Peter hated Iron Man. And now, he was going to turn him into HYDRA’s brainless employee. He was going to follow orders like a dog.

 

Plus, Peter got to work with biology and chemistry for once. He loved that feeling of creating something, it made so much sense.

 

Mechanics was fun and all, but he lived for the rare times he got this.

 

It was his refuge.

 

\--

 

Peter was made of sleepless nights and perfect calculations. He was built from the ground up by Ubiytsa. He was made of broken bones and sharpened knives. He was dark eyes and bloodied hair, nimble fingers and dark circles illuminated by a bright screen.

 

But now, now he was made of triumph. He was euphoria and hope and breathless giggles.

 

He had done it.

 

It had been almost a week, without sleep, without breaks. He barely even slowed down for food, even though he always got more when he was working on a big project.

 

As much as he just wanted to collapse, he wanted to see Iron Man brought down a notch first. It would take a few doses before his memory was completely done, but the first one would still be incredibly satisfying.

 

He left around a dozen vials of his serum in the lab and ran to find Ubiytsa.

 

Nobody touched him as he flew down the hallways. They never did when he was working. It was just another perk.

 

“Demyan,” Peter gasped as he skidded to a stop in front of the training room, “I need Ubiytsa. Now!”

 

Demyan nodded, abandoning his sparring partner to grab Peter’s forearm and drag him down through more corridors.

 

He shoved Peter in front of an unmarked door in a section Peter had never been in before. He pointed at the door, and left just as quickly as they had arrived.

 

Peter slowly turned to the door and hesitantly knocked. He was pretty sure his success would ward off any punishment for now, but he was still nervous.

 

“Rank and number,” a curt voice said from the other side. Another guard.

 

Peter paused for a second. He didn’t have a rank or a number, like the agents did. “Uh, it’s the spider. I need Ubiytsa.”

 

Silence.

 

Beeping, like someone entered a passcode for a safe.

 

Ubiytsa stepped out the door, in his uniform pants but a simple black shirt. It was strangely personal- like Peter had never really realized Ubiytsa was an actual human being before.

 

“Are you here for an update?” Ubiytsa asked, his voice hoarse and bleary.

 

Peter nodded for longer than was typically acceptable. “I finished. It’ll take a few doses, but it should work. It won’t erase early childhood memories, but we can probably make up a story. And if it doesn’t work, it won’t kill him, so we can try again.”

 

Peter could’ve sworn Ubiytsa smiled a bit, but he really hadn’t slept in a long time. “I want the data in the command center.”

 

“Of course, I’ll do that now.”

 

“You can have a day.”

 

“Thank you, sir,” Peter was shocked. He was hoping for at least eight, but twenty-four? Ubiytsa was really please. “Could you get someone to tell me when the first dose has taken effect? I wanna see it.”

 

Ubiytsa paused, thinking. “Yes, I think that would be appropriate.”

 

“Great,” Peter said, backing out of the hall, “There’s about a dozen doses in lab 34-RD.”

 

\--

 

There was so much white when Tony woke up. White walls, white floor, white lights. His vision was blurred, but he could make out a few figures, dressed in the red and black uniforms dragging him.

 

He was moving, he was pretty sure. Not too gently, he might add. His shoulder was twisted up and his shirt collar was pulled taut on his throat. The handcuffs were on both wrists now.

 

Tony debated attacking for a moment, but he really didn’t want to get shocked again. It would most likely hurt even more with both wrists caught.

 

He still didn’t know what they wanted from him, but he wasn’t going to talk.

 

He couldn’t let anyone get hurt because he couldn’t handle a little pain.

 

“Hey, look,” one of the blurry figures said, “He’s awake.”

 

“Can I zap ‘em again?” another asked. He waved something in front of Tony’s face, a black box sort of thing. He really wished his vision would clear up a bit.

 

“Nah,” the first one responded, “Boss wants him wide awake.”

 

At least Tony would finally learn what they wanted from his team.

 

He heard a door click open, and he was being pulled up, strapped to another slab of metal. His vision was getting a bit better, but it still wasn’t enough. He could make out a few tables. They all had various objects on them, but he couldn’t see them.

 

Once he was secured, the uniformed figures left him alone.

 

Well, he assumed he was alone.

 

When it had been at least half an hour, Tony figured he should try to get some sleep before anyone came back. He was a light sleeper, he would wake when the door was opened again.

 

\--

 

Tony awoke with a gasp of freezing water. He was coughing, his eyes shooting open, he was in a HYDRA base, he was back in Afghanistan, he was helpless.

 

His hands strained at the bonds, but they still shook a bit. He wasn’t getting out any time soon.

 

The water dripped away from his face and he heard a rush of laugher. HYDRA agents, and Ubiytsa. Tony took a few deep breaths.

 

“Wassup, Hippie?” Tony wheezed, laughing a bit with the agents, “Always a pleasure.”

 

“It really is, Tony,” Ubiytsa said, smiling. He pulled the back of a chair around so he could rest his arms on the back as he sat.

 

“You know, I’ve been tortured before,” Tony stared at the ceiling, “I don’t break easy.”

 

“Who says I’m planning any torture?” Ubiytsa waved the agents out. Only him, Tony, and one man in a stereotypical white lab coat remained.

 

“Well, how are you supposed to get any answers then?”

 

Ubiytsa let out a bark of fake laughter. “I’m not asking any questions.”

 

“Well, then why are we alive?”

 

“Originally, just to scare my little spider into remembering how to behave.”

 

Tony kept his expression blank. If he reacted, the man would most likely stop sharing all his evil plans. How were villains so stupid? “And now?”

 

“It worked better than we could have imagined.” Lab-coat guy was loading golden-red liquid into a syringe.

 

“How so?” Tony eyed the needle nervously.

 

Ubiytsa stood, shoving the chair behind him. “How would you like to work for me, Tones?”

 

“Oh, I would love to,” Tony rolled his eyes, “But I think I’ll have to pass, cause of the whole… evil mastermind thing. You know how it is.”

 

“I’m afraid you misunderstood.” Lab-coat guy was moving uncomfortably close to Tony. “You don’t have a choice.”

 

“I always have a choice,” Tony said, wincing a bit as the needle entered his neck.

 

“Not anymore.”

 

The room seemed to be moving in waves, like he was looking at it through rippling water.

 

Colorful spots swam across his vision.

 

Someone said something.

 

His head fell forward.

 

\--

 

Peter practically skipped into Command after a long nap, having just heard Iron Man had awoken. Even the screech of the door didn’t phase him.

 

“Kid,” the Asset said, as soon as Peter was in sight, “What did you do?”

 

Peter simply smiled, pulling himself onto one of the rafters near the roof with his webs. He sat with his legs dangling below, watching Iron Man’s befuddlement.

 

He was but a tangle of limbs on the cold floor, pulling himself into a sitting position frustratingly slowly. While Peter made sure the serum wouldn’t kill him if it failed, Peter didn’t bother to make it painless.

 

Captain America glared at Peter and quietly said, “Tony, what do you remember?”

 

“Tony,” Iron Man said, rubbing his forehead, “Tony, Tony.”

 

“Tones?” Captain America’s brow was wrinkling, with anger and confusion. “What did you do?” He didn’t raise his voice. To many, it would have been terrifying.

 

Peter just swung his legs, smirking. His serum seemed to be working. The first dose would only induce mild memory loss, mostly confusion and dissociation. Soon, though. Soon.

 

“Tony…” Iron Man said again. He slowly looked up at Captain America, pointing a shaky finger, “You’re… you’re... “

 

There was a long pause. Captain America asked the Asset a silent question. The Asset shook his head, his eyes on Iron Man.

 

“You’re… Steve,” Iron Man finally muttered. “Steve Rogers… Cap.”

 

Steve nodded, his eyes pained. “Yeah, Tones.”

 

“God, this feels like the literal worst hangover, like, ever,” Iron Man groaned.

 

“What happened?” Captain America asked, his brow still pinched. It was a good look.

 

“I don’t… I can’t… I don’t know.”

 

Peter smiled at that, jumping down from his spot.

 

“Whoa, where’d spider-kid come from?”

 

He winked at the Asset as he left.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What'd you think? 
> 
> Comments please! They give me so much encouragement! 
> 
> Also, I just got a new desktop, so hopefully I'll write more now that I don't have to rely on my shitty laptop. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! It's so great to see all the support I'm getting, and you guys motivate me to write more!


	5. Gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I’m dying to feel again
> 
> Oh anything at all
> 
> But oh I feel nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing at all
> 
> ~Imagine Dragons~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Mentions of intention to self-harm. Blink and you'll miss it, but take care of yourselves, y'all. 
> 
> Also, I will be adding this warning to the first chapter. Nobody has mentioned it yet, but I prob should.

Tony was telling the truth. He didn’t really remember what had happened. It was all a blur, a mess of voices and hands and pain, so much pain. 

 

It was mostly a headache, a throbbing headache that came with so much confusion. It was like he was watching himself through a mirror, and a thick pane of glass at the same time. 

 

In short, the worst hangover he’d ever had. 

 

It was weird, though. When Steve had called his name, he hadn’t recognized it at first. It had seemed familiar. He had just repeated the word, over and over, sounding it out, trying to figure out what it was. 

 

It had snapped suddenly. He was Tony. Tony. 

 

And then, he was looking at Steve, pointing at him, no matter how much it hurt. Steve has seemed familiar too, familiar. It didn’t snap that time. He just kinda… said what felt right, and it was. Steve. 

 

What had happened? 

 

Tony was still in so much pain he didn’t want to move. He wasn’t listening as carefully as he should have been. He should be watching the door, counting the days as the light cycles. He couldn’t find the drive to even lift his head from where it rested on his knee. 

 

There was a voice, Steve’s, talking. Not to Tony, but loud enough so he could hear it, “Do you… remember anything like this, Buck? I mean, do you think…” 

 

“No,” Bucky said, with an emotion Tony couldn’t identify since he couldn’t see his face, “This isn’t the Winter Soldier program. It’s… different.” 

 

There was a pause, and Tony wanted to say something, he really did, but he couldn’t move. It hurt so much to move any part of his head or neck. 

 

“The program was more… immediate… and final,” Bucky finally continued, “If it was the program, he would already be a soldier.” 

 

“So…” Steve sighed, “We’ve got nothing.” 

 

\--

 

_ A TV flashed in the living room. A game of jeopardy. _

 

_ “Who is… Bill Gates?” One of the contestants said.  _

 

_ Someone laughed across the counter, in the kitchen. “Come on,” she giggled, “That was so easy! Paul Allen.”  _

 

_ The TV echoed her answer. “Oh, look, you’re so-o-o-o-o smart,” a man said, wrapping his arms around the woman, “Stop showing off, May.”  _

 

_ A pencil scratched at paper, algebra. Easy. “Hey, hey! Let’s get after Pete, the show-off!” The woman said,but her voice was friendly, teasing, “I could barely do that at fourteen, and look at this kid, he’s barely nine!” _

 

_ “Nine and a quarter,” the boy holding the pencil said. ‘Pete’.  _

 

_ “That just makes you sound younger,” the man replied, still wrapped around the woman.  _

 

_ “At least I know how to boil water,” Pete said. He didn’t even have to think about the equations on his paper.  _

 

_ “Hey!” The woman said, “Watch your mouth, I’m a good cook!”  _

 

_ “May,” The man said, untangling their arms, “May, the pizza.”  _

 

_ “Oh!” The woman rushed to the oven to pull out a singed pizza. May.  _

 

Peter woke with a gasp, his lungs desperate for air. As his breathing slowed a bit, he pulled himself into a sitting position, rubbing his eyes. 

 

May. 

 

He didn’t know anyone by that name, unless it was one of the nameless agents around, and he had just forgotten.

 

May. 

 

It was a nice name, friendly. Like springtime, like the month. 

 

Not that he had ever been outside in the month of May. At least, he didn’t think so. It was warm though, with that bright green of the leaves and the flowers that smelled like pink. 

 

He never knew what month it was. He was grasping at straws. 

 

He didn’t even know if May was in the spring. 

 

He didn’t know anyone named May. 

 

May. 

 

\--

 

Tony had no way to tell how long it had been from his position, but it was probably at least a few hours before his headache subsided enough for him to sit more upright. 

 

He let out a groan as his did, “Seriously, guys. Worst. Hangover. Ever.” 

 

“Well, whatever happened , it’s not good,” Steve said, in his Cap voice. 

 

“No shit,” Tony rolled his eyes, wincing, “Nothing about this situation is good.” 

 

“They’re gonna try again,” Bucky said. 

 

“What? Why? It failed,” No matter that he couldn’t remember, Tony really didn’t want to go through all this pain again, “I still have my memories.” 

 

“They’ll either try a new serum or just add another dose, up the power on it.” 

 

“Ugh,” Tony leaned back on the metal slab, “Ughhhhh.”

 

“Yeah,” Steve sighed. 

 

There was a loud crackle overhead and Tony flinched at the sudden noise. It was so loud, too loud. “How’s it going, friends?” Ubiytsa’s voice came on, a bit staticky. 

 

“Wonderful,” Tony groaned, still rubbing his temples. 

 

“Great! I figure you guys might want some entertainment in here,” Ubiytsa’s voice was annoyingly cheery. “So I prepared a little live movie for you! I hope you like it.” 

 

Again, a projection flickered onto the far wall. They said nothing, but Tony was praying it wouldn’t be another attack like the first video. 

 

It was black. Pitch black, not a blank space, a black screen. 

 

“Oh, dear, sorry,” Ubiytsa’s disembodied voice said, “Let me turn on the night vision.” 

 

It was a room. The walls seemed to be padded like sound-proofing, or that in a mental hospital. Empty. No, wait, there was a figure curled up in the ceiling corner, pressed up against the walls. 

 

Tony squinted at it, “Is that… the spider-kid?”

 

“Of course,” Ubiytsa said, “Can’t have you forgetting about him.” 

 

Steve sighed, “Why should we care about one of your agents?”    
  


Ubiytsa chuckled a bit, “Don’t you recognize him?” 

 

“Oh my god,” Tony said, “We didn’t kidnap him or whatever, get over it, dude.” 

 

“Maybe not, but you do know his parents.” 

 

\--

 

_ The young boy, Pete, walked with his head down, staring at his feet. He a backpack on that dwarfed him and he kept pulling it up onto his shoulders. Must be heavy.  _

 

_ “Parker!” A voice called. Another boy ran up behind Pete, panting. “Dude, I’ve been calling you for like ten minutes.”  _

 

_ “Sorry,” Pete said, “I guess I didn’t hear you.”  _

 

_ “It’s fine,” the boy said, walking forward, “It happens all the time.”  _

 

_ “Really, Eugene,” Pete said, not following the boy (Eugene?) yet, “I’m sorry.”  _

 

_ “Come on,” Eugene just said, “We can’t be late again.”  _

 

_ Peter nodded a bit, finally moving, “May wants you at game night this Friday.”  _

 

_ “Awesome!” Eugene bounced a bit, “I’ll ask my dad!”  _

 

_ The two boys kept talking, but their voices got quieter as they moved down the street. Eugene laughed loudly at something Pete said, throwing his head back.  _

 

Peter woke up calm that time. He sat up slowly, staring blankly across the dark room. It was the same boy from the first dream, the one he almost shared a name with. But this time, the other kid (Eugene? What kind of a name is that?) had called him Parker. Maybe a twin? A nickname?

 

Maybe a last name?

 

Pete Parker.

 

It sounded kind of familiar. 

 

Maybe. 

 

\--

 

Not much happened in the video between the time it was put up and the next time they took Tony. The kid woke up for a while, stared at the wall, and went back to sleep. All in the ceiling corner. 

 

“Who do you think his parents are?” Steve kept asking. 

 

Tony wanted to scream every time. “We don’t know. God, how does Bucky live with you?”

 

Bucky always just sort of groaned. 

 

They came soon enough. Tony’s head still hadn’t stopped hurting. Conversation mostly consisted of Steve and his dumb question, and Tony’s exasperation.

 

While it would be a change of scenery, Tony almost cried when the guards showed up again. He really, really didn’t want to be turned into a mindless soldier. What HYDRA could do with his genius- he didn’t want to think about. 

 

One of the men waved a little black remote in front of the glass. “What’s that there?” Tony asked, trying to keep his smug smile, “Is that a phone? I wouldn’t be surprised with the level of technology that pas-” Tony choked back an almost-scream. 

 

The remote was connected to the dumb electricity handcuffs, which were only taken off one wrist when Tony was dumped back in his ‘cell’ after the first whatever it was. 

 

He didn’t pass out this time, but it still hurt like hell. 

 

He didn’t fight the guards again. 

 

\--

 

_ “Aaaand that’s uno,” Pete crowed, throwing down a plus-four.  _

 

_ “Bullshit,” the man said, his eyes all squinty.  _

 

_ The woman laughed. May. “Language, darling.”  _

 

_ The other boy, Eugene, just glared, pulling four cards from the center. He put down a switch color card, changing it to green.  _

 

_ “Ugh, come on, Eugene,” The man said, drawing card after card, “Why is there no green?”  _

 

_ “I don’t know,” Eugene said, honestly but he was still clearly enjoying the moment.  _

 

_ May was stifling her giggles as the man kept drawing, “Don’t you have a switch color?”  _

 

_ The man gaped at her, pulling his hand to his chest, “How did you know that?”  _

 

_ “Play, it, Ben,” May scolded, pointing at the face-up center pile. “Them’s the rules.”  _

 

_ The man glared. Ben. “Fine. Red.”  _

 

_ Pete smiled at his cards, humming a bit.  _

 

_ “Oh dear, oh no, he’s got a red card,” May said.  _

 

_ “What, can you see his too?” Ben sniped.  _

 

_ “No,” May said, “I don’t look at people’s cards, okay? You just tilted yours towards me. Chill.”  _

 

_ “Mhmmm,” Ben raised his eyebrows, his cards still pulled against his chest.  _

 

_ May rolled her eyes, dropping a reverse. Pete pouted a bit, but he had a spark in his eyes.  _

 

_ Ben just played a number, but Eugene dropped another color change. “Blue,” he said, smirking. _

 

_ “Oh noooo,” Pete said, dropping a blue eight on the pile, “I just won.”  _

 

Peter’s fingers were itching for a blade when he woke. All the strange dreams had been getting him on edge, and he really needed something for his hands to do.  

 

He absently wondered how long training would be, scratching at his wrist. There was no convient door-opening, no guards coming in. He stood up, pacing from wall to wall. 

 

Ben. 

 

The man's name was Ben. 

 

May and Ben. 

 

The names sounded familiar, but Ben was not a Russian name. There would be no way he knew a Ben, even less of a chance than the name May. 

 

The other strange thing was the two boys. 

 

Pete and Eugene. 

 

Peter was the only kid at the base. HYDRA didn’t like to deal with kids. Ubiytsa said it was typically too hard on them. Peter was only living there because of the Avengers. 

 

Who were those people? 

 

May and Ben. 

 

Pete and Eugene. 

 

Parker. 

 

—

 

The handcuffs were digging into Tony’s wrists. He could admit it was better than being electrocuted, but it was really annoying. Since he was awake this time, the guards were making him walk. Sort of. One of them kept shoving him forward, so he could never quite get his footing. 

 

“Are you sure I can’t use this,” the guard in the back whined, still waving the remote around.

 

“No,” the one in the front replied, “Boss needs him awake.” 

 

The other huffed, but put the remote away. And then took it out again. 

 

“Come on, you heard me.” 

 

The one with the remote nodded, pointing further down the hall, “Look.” 

 

It was that spider kid, scurrying a few doors away, his head down. The guard in the front laughed quietly, “Yeah, yeah, now, before he turns the corner.” 

 

A few switches were flipped on the remote, and the kid was doubled over, something on his wrist glowing a bright blue. He was still standing, and he glanced over his shoulder at the guards before stumbling around a corner and out of sight. 

 

The guards were laughing. 

 

Tony glared, said nothing. 

 

\--

 

Peter was rushing to get to training. He was still restless, and needed something to do that wouldn’t get him punished. He was rushing, and didn’t check if anyone was behind him. 

 

So, really it was his fault. 

 

His fault those two guards snuck up on him. 

 

His fault one of them sent what must have been tens of thousands of volts through his wrists. 

 

His fault. 

 

He got a quick look at their faces before he ran off. 

 

Ido and Lael. They were two of the meaner guards, but high-ranked enough that Peter could typically avoid them. They were usually posted outside Command or near Ubiytsa’s personal office. 

 

Peter felt a twinge of sympathy for Iron Man, stuck with them. 

 

No. 

 

No he didn’t. 

 

\--

 

Tony was shoved through a doorway and strapped onto a metal sort of operating table. The guards left, and he was alone.

 

Not for long. 

 

He had barely started looking at the leather cuffs when Ubiytsa strode through the door, followed by a man in a lab coat. Tony really wanted to roll his eyes at the stereotype. A true evils scientist, complete with the dumbass coat. 

 

“Hey, Tony, so good to see you back here,” Ubiytsa said, flashing is charming smile. 

 

“Back?” Tony repeated, getting an idea of what was happening. 

 

Ubiytsa had a quick, silent conversation with douche-coat, and then lab-coat guy quietly said, “He’s not going to remember about- oh- ten minutes before the operation.”  

 

“Did you know,” Tony said, stalling as lab-coat wiped down needles. He needed to get out of those cuffs, “I’m really not that good without my suit. Wouldn’t you be better off just using Agents you already have?” 

 

Not a good tactic. They didn’t need more Winter Soldiers to deal with. 

 

“We don’t want you to fight,” Ubiytsa said, “We want you to build.” 

 

Tony laughed a bit at that, “Just use the kid. He’s loyal, and as smart, if not smarter than me.” 

 

“He’s really not,” Ubiytsa said, raising an eyebrow, “We need your genius.” 

 

“He built an arc reactor for that dumb bird,” Tony blurted as lab-coat sterilized his neck, “And he got those gloves in like three hours, he’s smart. You don’t need me.” 

 

Tony needed to get his team out. 

 

He kinda needed his memories for that. 

 

“The boy made those in… three hours?” Ubiytsa asked, slowly, anger darkening his face.

 

Tony nodded a bit, eying the needle. 

 

Without warning, Ubiytsa slammed his fist on the metal table and stomped out of the room. Lab-coat stuck his neck, injecting fire into his veins. 

 

It registered that Tony may have just gotten the kid into something he didn’t understand. 

 

And then he forgot that he had. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried archery this morning! It was really fun!! 
> 
> What do you guys think?? I know Flash and Peter were never friends in canon, but I need them to be for reasons that you'll find out later. He will get a redemption arc, but there may or may not be a few things that happen before that... 
> 
> I don't really know how much electricity Peter can take, and I looked up how much a normal person can take but all the accounts were wildly different so I just left it kinda vague. 
> 
> Comment! I live for it! 
> 
> Also, if you haven't noticed, my chapters are song titles and the summaries are lyrics that match the mood of the story. If you have any song recommendations, please comment them! It would be awesome, and I love listening to new music!


	6. Hurt Somebody

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taking it slowly  
> I'm afraid to be lonely  
> Nobody told me  
> It's harder than I thought to tell the truth  
> It's gonna leave you in pieces  
> All alone with your demons
> 
> ~Noah Kahan~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hurt Somebody is such a good song, you should all go listen to it. 
> 
> Sorry this is late! I posted a new fic last Sunday instead of finishing this chapter... 
> 
> Thank you to everyone for all your ongoing support! And most of all, enjoy this chapter. (You prob won't tbh)
> 
> TW: Blood loss. Tons. Just some more violence, at the very end. It's not super graphic. Not graphic at all actually, just figured I should warn you.

Peter had experienced a lot of pain in his life. 

 

It’s a given, with the way he lives. Before though, there was still pain. The muffled memories. He remembers that pain. There’s always been pain he can’t remember. He doesn’t know where it comes from. He just wakes up sometimes, in his room, and hurts. 

 

Peter remembered his pain. 

 

He remembered yelling. He didn’t understand the words, but he understood the message. 

 

He remembered rage screaming in the gentle questions, spilling through a fake smile. 

 

He remembered lying, being so very careful not to let his voice waver. 

 

He remembered not lying well enough. 

 

He remembered pain. 

 

\--

 

Steve loved to draw. Originally, it has simply been fun, but now it served as a distraction when his crazy life caught up to him. 

 

His fingers itched for a pencil as he was stuck in between. 

 

He was trying not to think about Tony, about how one of his best friends hadn’t recognized him. It was like that moment with Bucky all over again. He was trying not to think about how it seemed to have been longer than the first time Tony was taken. He was trying not to think. 

 

To distract himself and his restless fingers, Steve had been watching Peter go about his day. That did not work. Electrocution and merciless training, as well as how silent the kid’s room was, just made Steve angry, more restless if that was even possible. 

 

Steve had never actually been kidnapped before, and he was not taking to it well. 

 

At one point, he thought maybe he saw Tony in the background, between some guards, but it was probably just his eyes playing tricks on him. 

 

The feed was hard to watch, but it was better than wondering what Tony was going through. If they treated one of their own like this, who’s to say what could happen before they messed with Tony’s memories. 

 

Steve’s only consolation was that it wasn’t the Winter Soldier serum. He wouldn’t have to go through all that pain again. 

 

Or, maybe he would. 

 

“Stevie,” Bucky’s gentle voice ripped Steve out of his head, “We’ll get out of here.” 

 

“You don’t know that.” 

 

“No,” Bucky said, “But we have to.” 

 

“Yeah.” 

 

There was a shout from the invisible speakers. Ubiytsa was yelling at Peter in Russian. The boy looked lost. The man leaned forward and spat, “You are a liar.”

 

“What was he saying?” Steve asked, trying to make out Peter’s expression. He was on his knees, Ubiytsa having pushed him down. 

 

“I couldn’t hear that well, but mostly just insults.” 

 

Ubiytsa did that cliche villain move and tilted Peter’s face up with a finger on his chin. He growled something in Russian and stode out of view of the camera. 

 

Steve glanced at Bucky, who simply said, “Don’t kill him.” 

 

They watched in silence. 

 

Steve refused to look away. 

 

\--

 

The door to Peter’s room hadn’t opened yet. He was pretty sure it was part of his punishment. For lying, for finishing early and doing who-knows-what in Command. 

 

Well, Peter knew what. 

 

Blue eyes. 

 

Peter shook  his head. If he’s going to be stuck for a while, he can’t afford to think about anything that could upset him. The silence was always overbearing, but after a day or two it gets into his head. All he can hear is himself. His organs shifting. It’s no longer quiet. 

 

_ You can do this _ , he told himself. He has before. The dark, the screaming silence, the disorientation. He’s dealt with it so many times before. 

 

Peter doesn’t know how long he’ll be stuck in his room. All he can think about is how he’s going to get his revenge once he gets out. 

 

There’s no cameras in Command. Meaning, only the prisoners could have tipped off Ubiytsa. 

 

He’s going to get his revenge. 

 

\--

 

It took Tony longer to wake up the second time. At least, it seemed longer to Steve.

 

Now that they have the video feed, with it’s time stamp on it, they can compare each time. But for now, Steve just had to rely on feel. It felt longer. 

 

When Tony groggily opened his eyes, Steve froze. They were so blank. Empty, empty eyes. 

 

“Tony,” Steve choked out eventually. The man didn’t move, just stared blankly at the ceiling. 

 

“They would have kept him if all his memories were gone,” Bucky said, “Keep trying.” 

 

“Tony, Tony, come on, look at me,” Steve begged. His voice was breaking. 

 

It took a while.

 

Too long. 

 

But eventually, slowly, slowly, Tony looked up. 

 

He began to recognize his name, then Steve’s face. 

 

Then Steve’s friendship. 

 

(He thought he was in heaven for a bit.)

 

But then, he didn’t recognize Bucky. 

 

“Steve, Steve, hey,” Tony was obviously trying not to let his voice waver, “Where? Where are we? And who’s resting bitch face over there?” 

 

“What?” Steve lacked a better response.

 

“Where are we,” Tony said, slowly, as if he was talking to a young child, “And who are we with?” 

 

“That’s… that’s Bucky,” Steve replied, sending a help me look at the man, “You know Bucky, my Bucky.” 

 

“Whoa, cool! Like Bucky Barnes? Is he like, Capsicle times two?” 

 

Steve doesn’t respond, just stares. Tony actually losing memories was a lot scarier than just thinking about it.

 

“I am a super-soldier, yeah,” Bucky said, glaring at Steve, “And we’re at a HYDRA base. We got kidnapped. They’ve been wiping your memories.” 

 

Tony’s grin lessened a little as he glanced around the room. “Well, at least he’s got your sparkling personality, Rocket Pop.” 

 

“Yeah,” Steve said absently, meeting Bucky’s gaze. There was a long pause.

 

“Who’s the kid?” 

 

\--

 

_ “Peterrrrr!”  the woman, May groaned, dragging out the ‘r’. “It’ll be fuuuuun!”  _

 

_ Pete- or maybe Peter- folded his arms, pouting that little boy pout, “No! I’m going to hate it.”  _

 

_ “Come on, do you trust me?” Pete just pulled his arms tighter and glared. “Okay, okay. How about we do ice cream after? From that place on Cherry?”  _

 

_ Pete’s eyes lit up, but he sighed with over-exaggerated annoyance, “Fine.”  _

 

_ May whooped, jumping up to grab her coat.  _

 

_ “Right now?” Pete groaned.  _

 

_ “Right now!”  _

 

_ They were in front of a huge building, standing in a long line. The man, Ben, had joined them. Pete was practically jumping up and down.  _

 

_ “No way! No way, no way, no way! No. Way. This is happening!” Pete was gushing.  _

 

_ Ben laughed, ruffling Pete’s hair, “Yes way! I’m guessing you like your surprise?”  _

 

_ “I love it! Do you think we’ll see Iron Man? What if we see some bad guys? I can’t believe I’m going to the Stark Expo! I wonder if I’ll get to meet Mr. Stark!”  _

 

Peter gasped awake, struggling to breathe. Of course his little dream refuge was ruined by Iron Man. Of course little Pete was a fan. Of course. 

 

It’s like Iron Man was going to ruin every chance Peter gets to relax. As confusing as the dreams were, they had felt safe. Quiet, simple. Free from Ubiytsa and the prisoners and the pain. 

 

Of course Iron Man would ruin that. 

 

\--

 

Tony’s memories were slowly returning. First he remembered the Accords, then the whole Winter Soldier bombing, then the framing and the fight. He remembered Steve trying to kill him. 

 

And then, for almost an hour (if the timestamp on that kid’s video was accurate), Tony didn’t know how they could have ever become friends again. He didn’t know how he could ever forgive that much of a slight, that fear he had when he saw Rogers’s uniform. 

 

But Barnes’s new arm was obviously his design, and Steve was concerned. 

 

His memories returned, and then he knew. He remembered all the awkward dodging and small talk. He remembered the edits to the Accords, the endless apologies from Barnes. He remembered how the arm was bolted into bone, fixing the pain. He remembered Barnes turning into Bucky.

 

He remembered Rogers slowly backing off. He remembered reaching out, quiet conversations, frustration. He remembered therapy and anger and Bucky was the mediator. He remembered the painful transition of Rogers back to Steve. 

 

He remembered and he looked up at Steve. He could see the hope in his eyes and then the relief as Tony said, “I’m sorry.” 

 

“No,” Bucky said. Steve closed his mouth. “You did nothing wrong.” 

 

Steve nodded firmly. Tony grimaced, his whole body throbbing. “We got a plan?” 

 

He couldn’t remember how they got into the base. 

 

“No.” 

 

“Well,” Tony was violently shaking as he stood, leaning heavily on the metal behind him, “We might want to hurry that up.” 

 

Silence. “We’ve tried a lot, Tony,” Steve said, “You overpowered the guards once, but they slapped those handcuffs on.” 

 

Tony furrowed his brow, “But if I overpowered them, why are we still here? It’s just some handcuffs.” 

 

“Electrocution, but shhhh,” Bucky said, moving to point at the projection, “Listen.” 

 

The kid’s breathing was ragged. He was quietly whispering over and over, “Iron Man. Stark.” Peter- is that what Steve said his name was?- couldn’t catch his breath. He was curling in on himself. 

 

“I think he’s having a panic attack,” Steve said. Tony nodded a bit.

 

“Why’s he keep talking about me?” 

 

Peter’s breathing was evening out a bit. He grabbed his left arm, nails digging into his wrist. 

 

They all had their eyes glued to the video. Bucky said, “He kinda hates us. Been told we’re evil. Most likely false memories of us torturing him.” 

 

Steve chuckled humorlessly, “Or we did and just forgot.” 

 

Peter let out a loud sigh, his head falling onto the wall behind him. Quietly, he said, “Why does he have to ruin everything?” 

 

\--

 

It turned out Peter wasn’t left in his room for too long. The quiet had started to push into his head, and the dark was swimming. 

 

Of course, when the door opened he assumed it was food. He assumed his punishment was over. 

 

He should really have learned to stop assuming by that point. 

 

It was those two guards again, Ido and Lael. They dragged him to his feet. The taller one (Lael?) pushed the shocker part of his webshooters deeper into his wrists. 

 

The other one (Ido?) grinned and clipped another shocker around his neck. Shit. 

 

Lael shoved him forward. Peter didn’t risk any hesitation, stumbling into the blinding hallways. There was a small chuckle behind him, but it cut off after a glare from Lael. Shit, shit, shit. If the guards had to actually be professional for once, that meant it was gonna get so much worse. 

 

It did. 

 

Peter was shoved into one of the labs closer to Command. Typically, the closer they were, the most important what happened inside was. (Mostly just more gruesome.) 

 

At some point, Ido had started sending a constant stream of electricity through his neck and wrists. It hurt, but Peter could get over it for the moment. 

 

Focus on what was happening. He was being strapped onto the operating table. There were four lab-coats in the room. Peter couldn’t bring himself to call them doctors. He didn’t think many had any medical degree. As soon as he was bound, Ido and Lael left and Ubiytsa came in. 

 

He smirked down at Peter. The voltage increased a bit. “Ready to tell me the truth, засранец?” 

 

Peter swallowed a few times but he couldn’t stop his voice from shaking a bit, “I did. I finished the gauntlets just before you-” 

 

Ubiytsa smiled as Peter choked on his whimpers. The voltage was getting really high now. Turning to the lab-coats, the man said curtly, “ Все что пожелаете. Просто убедитесь, что он выжил. Нет анестезии.” 

 

One of the labcoats smiled. 

 

Peter screamed. 

 

There was so much blood, so much more blood than he had ever bled at one time. So much more pain than usual with their experiments. Of course, this wasn’t for science, not to explore his powers. 

 

This was because he lied. 

 

But Peter knew if he told the truth it would only get worse. 

 

He screamed until he couldn’t anymore. 

 

The electricity was still coursing through the shockers. He could see sparks sometimes, bouncing off the slightly rusty scalpels. 

 

There was so much blood, much blood, so much pain. 

 

Peter’s vision grew blurred. 

 

It was all red and bright sparks and more red. 

 

Peter thought he was going to die. 

 

_ Please,  _ he thought as he finally, finally faded out of consciousness,  _ just let this be over now.  _

 

There was so much blood. 

 

And then, nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So uh... sorry? 
> 
> I was going to add another scene with our trio after the ending, but I think it's a perfect cliffhanger, and you all know how much I love those. 
> 
> As always, comment! Kudos! I'm always open to song suggestions for the title and summary. 
> 
> You can google translate the Russian or just wait until next week to find out what it says... (It will be next week, I'm out of school on Wednesday, so I can update both fics during the summer.)


	7. It's Not Over Yet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keep on fighting  
> Out of the dark  
> Into the light  
> It's not over  
> Hope is rising  
> Never give in  
> Never give up  
> It's not over
> 
> ~for KING & COUNTRY~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Suicidal thoughts right at the beginning, violence, death, electrocution. The usual, y'know?

When he slipped away, Peter didn’t think he was going to wake up. 

 

When he did wake up, he would be lying if he said he wasn’t disappointed. 

 

He was so tired. So, so tired. He didn’t want to deal with Ubiytsa anymore. He didn’t want to fight. He didn’t want to kill anyone. He still regretted those few he had. No matter if they were Agents or traitors or criminals, he regretted it. 

 

He just wanted to go home. 

 

No, wait. He was home, wasn’t he? 

 

No. He wasn’t. 

 

Ben Parker. May Parker.

 

That’s what it was, a last name.  _ Parker _ . And the kid. The kid.

 

Pete Parker. 

 

Peter Parker. 

 

He liked that name. Peter (Parker) stood shakily, trying not to disturb the bandages decorating most of his body. Peter (Parker) ran his fingers across the walls in the dark. 

 

He was going to get out. 

 

Peter (Parker) wanted to find his refuge. 

 

And the prisoners (heroes) were going to help. 

 

\--

 

The kid didn’t move for so long. The screams echoed in Tony’s ears. They bounced around in his head, slowly driving him insane. 

 

The night vision was too grainy to see if the kid was even breathing. Nobody spoke. 

 

It had been over twelve hours when he finally stirred. There was a light groaning as the kid sat up. He stared at the wall for a while. Then, in a barely audible whisper, “Peter Parker.” 

 

He smiled a bit, and stood with a hand on the wall. Moving slowly, he tracked his hands over the walls until they dug into what Tony assumed was the door. The kid cocked his head, pushing his ear right by the door. After a few minutes, he pushed out. 

 

He didn’t seem to be straining at all, but the door flew off it’s hinges, landing with a deafening clatter. The kid flinched, but didn’t stop moving. He smoothly leapt onto the ceiling, crawling out of sight of the camera. 

 

Not even a minute later, two guards came running up to the wrecked entrance and an alarm went off. There was one of those red lights flashing above the entrance to the room Tony was in. Helplessly, Tony put his hands over his ears. The alarms were not helping his headache. 

 

“What the hell is he doing,” Bucky asked, squinting at the empty room on video. 

 

Steve shrugged, glaring at the flashing light. 

 

“You said he lost memories, right?” Tony shouted. He couldn’t hear very well with his hands over his ears and with that dumb alarm. 

 

“Yeah,” Steve said, shooting a worried glance at Tony. 

 

Bucky figured it out before Tony had to speak again, “‘You think he remembered.” 

 

Tony nodded. “I think he remembered.” 

 

\--

 

Peter (Parker) was doubting his choices. He had been raised in the base, could he really betray everyone? Especially with what he was planning. 

 

But then again, Peter (Parker) really wanted to meet May (Parker) and Ben (Parker) and that kid, Eugene (Parker didn’t sound right). He wanted to see the sunshine for more that two seconds and he wanted to know the feel of May’s namesake. He wanted to feel the rain and the wind. He wanted to help people. He wanted to build things and experiment with chemicals. 

 

He wanted  _ out _ . 

 

Out of the base, out of the life, out of the suit and the webshooters. 

 

Shit.

 

The webshooters. 

 

Peter (Parker) had to find a way to get the webshooters off before someone found the remote. Or remembered to use it. He knew from experience they were coded to his fingerprints. If he tried to take them off without an override from Ubiytsa on the remote, they would basically char his wrist to hell and back. 

 

They were coded to his fingerprints. 

 

Maybe, maybe, if he continued with his original plan, one of the prisoners (heroes) could take it off. But really, after everything, would they want to help him? 

 

And then, Peter (Parker) realized something. At that point, it didn’t matter. If he was caught, his life would be even worse, somehow. He had to continue with the plan. And if he failed, if he was caught… Well, then he would be better off dead. 

 

He swallowed a few times, trying to get the doubts out of his head. He could do this. 

 

There was a marching coming from around the corner. The hallway was too long to get around before they saw him. There were no doorways. Maybe… he flipped up higher, pulling at the bolted air vent. The footsteps drew closer. Peter (Parker) desperately twisted the bolts. Half of the vent hung down and he slipped up inside just as the guards rounded into the hall. Peter (Parker) held the vent closed, holding his breath. 

 

As soon as the guards passed through the hallways, Peter (Parker) webbed the vent closed,starting to crawl up the vents towards Command. He had to stop moving every time he heard anyone below, so it was slow going, but eventually he made it. 

 

Between the normal vents and the ones in Command there was a mesh grate. Ubiytsa didn’t like to take chances. Peter (Parker) could hear at least two guards outside of Command, and if he strained, one inside. 

 

To get to the screws on the grate, Peter (Parker) had to pop off some metal coverings. He caught three in his hands, but one bounced onto the vent. He froze, listening. 

 

“Did you hear something?” someone below asked. It was hard to hear through all the metal. 

 

A grunt from someone else, “No.” 

 

“I thought I heard something,” the first person said, “From up there.” 

 

“We’re just guarding the door,” the second said. Then some words Peter (Parker) couldn’t make out. The first one huffed, but didn’t say anything else. 

 

Peter (Parker) webbed the mesh to the bottom of the vent, to avoid it making noise as it would if he had set it down. He flipped over to crawl on the ceiling, so as not to disturb the plate. 

 

The opening was just in front of the door. Peter had to land silently, and take out the single guard quietly if this was going to work. 

 

She was standing on the opposite side of the room, leaning against the wall. She didn’t seem completely focused. Peter (Parker) could work with that. If he webbed her mouth shut as soon as possible, he might actually get away with this. 

 

The one issue, the vent opened out. Peter (Parker) pulled out two bolts, holding the vent up. If he dropped down at the right time, he might still be able to take the guard by surprise. 

 

The prisoners (heroes) were quiet. Not asleep, but basically not moving. 

 

Counting quietly in his head, Peter (Parker) dropped the grate and rocked forward in one smooth movement. Landing silently, Peter (Parker) put a finger to his lips, facing the prisoners (heroes). The guard reached for her communicator, which Peter (Parker) webbed out of her hand.

 

It hadn’t been turned on yet. He quickly webbed the woman’s mouth and dodges a few of her weak attacks. She clearly hadn’t been trained very well. Securing her to the wall, Peter (Parker) flashed a tight smile at the prisoners, moving towards the computer. 

 

The stolen communicator in his hand buzzed with a message flashing in red. 

 

**Две минуты до регистрации заезда**

 

He couldn’t read it, but a countdown popped onto the screen. He knew what that meant. 

 

Two minutes until the guard had to voice authorize that she was still in commision. Which meant, Peter (Parker) had two minutes to hack into the computer and get out of Command. And out of the building. 

 

Watching the clock, Peter (Parker) built a simple algorithm that would match the passwords. Hopefully it would only take about thirty seconds to completely open the computer.  

 

As the letter flashed through on the screen, Peter (Parker) finally looked up, across the room. Captain America and the Asset looked wary, calculating. No surprise. But Iron Man just looked curious. Like he had something on the tip of his tongue. 

 

Peter (Parker) just stared for a while. He jumped a bit when the computer dinged, cracked open. Finding the command to open the prisoner’s (hero’s) glass cages, Peter (Parker) hesitated. 

 

Making his choice, he found his file. 

 

There would be no going back. 

 

**Peter Benjamin Parker**

**Age 15**

**Male**

**5’8”**

**Parents:**

**Richard Parker (deceased), Mary Parker (deceased)**

**Guardians:**

**Ben Parker (deceased), May Parker**

 

**Powers:**

**Enhanced strength (40+ tons)**

**Can stick to surfaces (with or without clothes/shoes)**

**Enhanced reflexes**

**Enhanced speed**

**Enhanced healing**

**Abnormal stamina and durability**

**Sixth-sense early warning system**

 

**Notes:**

**Only survivor of R.Parker spider-soldier serum, most likely genetic.**

**Can withstand amazing amounts of pain.**

**Scientific genius.**

 

Peter Benjamin Parker. 

 

So it was true. Ubiytsa had been lying. 

 

There were school records from when Peter was a little kid, up until age nine. He was in advanced classes for science and math. He had had friends, a life. The corner of the table his left hand was resting on crumpled. 

 

Remembering in time, Peter unlocked the glass prisons before he threw the computer. With his strength it smashed almost completely on the wall. Peter glared at the remains. 

 

“Kid, you good?” Iron Man asked, moving towards Peter hesitantly. From outside, the two guards were calling in, asking questions in Russian. 

 

Peter didn’t say anything, just cast a wary glance at Captain America and strode towards Iron Man. Grabbing his hand, Peter used Iron Man’s fingers to pry open the webshooters. 

 

The door started to creak open. 

 

Peter yanked the electric cord out of his wrist, crushing the web shooter and dropping it on the ground. He scaled the wall below the window in a matter of seconds, kicking it out to fall outside. He paused at the top, looking back down. 

 

He jerked his chin towards the window, “Nobody wants to leave?” 

 

The Asset was the first to move. He walked, slowly to stand below the window, holding a hand up toward Peter. Eying the hand nervously, Peter didn’t move. 

 

“I’m just goin’ out the window,” the Asset said, “They took all my weapons.” 

 

If Peter knew anything, it was that the agents never missed anything that could possibly be used as a weapon. Honestly, it was surprising that they let the Asset keep the arm. 

 

So, Peter threw all sense out the window, and took the hand, pulling the Asset up to sit on the ledge next to him. The Asset nodded once and bent down to pull his companions up. 

 

Peter leaned out the window, using his remaining webshooter to secure the top a rope for them to scale down on. As the Asset helped Captain America onto the window ledge, Peter let himself fall backwards. From above, he heard a shout. 

 

It always felt so good to fall. 

 

And now, now he was free. He could do this whenever he wanted. 

 

Closing his eyes, Peter lazily flipped right-side-up, landing softly in the snow hundreds of feet below the window.  _ Like a cat,  _ he thought, smiling.

 

He gave the Asset a lopsided grin, letting it fade at bit at Captain America’s relieved face. 

 

He couldn’t get the Captain out of his head, no matter how hard he tried. 

 

Securing the bottom of the web, Peter gestured for the Asset to come down the rope. Luckily, the Captain did not come first. At least they could pick up on those hints. 

 

“Why are you helping us,” the Asset asked, as soon as his feet touched the snow. 

 

Peter blinked a few times. He wasn’t quite sure. “Why are you, Asset?” 

 

The Asset smiled softly, “My name is Bucky.” 

 

“Barnes,” Peter said. Bucky Barnes, war hero. The only Howling Commando to give his life in service. How did he know that? 

 

“Yeah, that works too, I guess,” the Asset said, “Better than Asset.” 

 

Peter watched in silence as the Asset, now named Barnes, helped his companions off the web. Barnes gave Captain America a long hug. Peter couldn’t help grimacing a bit. 

 

There was a chopper in the distance, practically telling them to move faster, move, move. Peter strode towards the treeline in the distance. It was a long shot, but either he would get gunned down or he would fight off some ground parties. Whether he lived truly depended on how much Ubiytsa wanted him back. 

 

The trio began following Peter not long after. Smart, he was their best bet of survival. Barnes and the Captain were walking a little behind, their shoulders brushing. Iron Man fell in stride with Peter. It was annoying. 

 

With someone walking next to Peter, he always felt uncomfortable. The body blocks a huge part of his peripheral vision. He trusts his hearing to watch his back, but if he’s focused there, it’s easier to sneak up on his side with another person. 

 

It was even more annoying when Iron Man spoke. “So… you lost some memories?” 

 

Peter said nothing, not bothering to look at the man. 

 

“I can relate,” Iron Man continued, not taking a hint. 

 

Peter shook his head, trying to pull ahead. 

 

“I mean, the HYDRA guys were blanking mine.” 

 

“No,” Peter glared, “You should have only lost a week or two by now.” 

 

“Yeah, but before that,” Iron Man said. He was trying too hard. 

 

“It would take a few hours to regain everything after a few months ago,” Peter interrupted, “So what.” 

 

“So what? They’re my memories! I like having them, no matter how shitty. Don’t you like having your memories back?” 

 

Peter turned his head to look Iron Man straight in the eye, “Who says I do?” 

 

“Why else would you help us?” 

 

Peter froze, holding up his hand. Someone was walking towards them. He knew those footsteps. “Because you’ve lied less than him.” 

 

“Who?” 

 

Peter turned around, slowly. Ubiytsa stood a few meters away, hands in his pockets. He look so infuriating casual. 

 

Barnes and Captain America moved to stand in front of Peter and Iron Man. Peter stepped around them, looking Ubiytsa in the eye. 

 

“How’s your day been, little spider?” 

 

Peter smirked a bit, tilting his head. 

 

Ubiytsa held out a hand, “Give me the webshooter.” 

 

Peter knew what was coming. He was ready, he could do this. Digging his fingers into the release button, he could feel the click as it registered his fingerprints. He felt the searing heat as the device released it’s full electricity. He felt his wrist char, he felt the voltage dance up his arm. 

 

Somehow managing to stay standing, Peter ripped the webshooter out of his wrist, his hands shaking as the electricity fizzled out. 

 

Ubiytsa was still holding a hand out, smirking. 

 

Peter held up the webshooter, thinking. He could still go back. Back to the base, back to what he knew. He could go back to the lies and the pain and the fighting. He could go back to the almost killing someone, figuring out just how hard to hit to knock someone out but to make sure he never, ever had to kill anyone. 

 

He could go back to fear. 

 

He would never go back. 

 

Peter stepped forward, holding the webshooter out as if to give it to Ubiytsa, his eyes down. Just before he could put in Ubiytsa’s hand, he looked up, met Ubiytsa’s eye. Challenging Ubiytsa to stop him, Peter crumpled the shooter in his hand, throwing it at Ubiytsa’s feet. 

 

Turning slowly, Peter began to walk back into the woods. His heart was beating too fast, his ears strained for Ubiytsa’s movements. 

 

He was nearing Barnes when he heard Ubiytsa draw a weapon. Didn’t matter what it was, he was aiming it straight at Peter. The boy froze, slowly drawing his hands up. 

 

Ubiytsa was only a few feet behind him. He could easily-

 

Peter whipped around, grabbing the end of the suped-up gun and using it to fling Ubiytsa around. The man stumbled a bit. Peter threw the gun behind him and stepped towards Ubiytsa. 

 

Ubiytsa immediately aimed to kick out Peter’s knees, knock him down. He knew how strong, how skilled the boy was. Peter jumped forward, slamming Ubiytsa back into a tree. 

 

There was a loud crack, and Ubiytsa fell limp in Peter’s arms. He stumbled back, eyes wide. Ubiytsa’s body slid to the ground, blood on the back of his head and on the tree trunk. He wasn’t breathing, and Peter couldn’t hear a heartbeat. 

 

“Oh my god,” Peter said, dropping to his knees. He looked up at Barnes, who had moved closer. “I killed him,” Peter said, his hands shaking even more. “He’s dead, I killed him.” 

 

Barnes put a hand on Peter’s shoulder, kneeling next to him silently. 

 

“I killed someone,” Peter said. 

 

There was relief in his shoulders and horror in his eyes. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly don't have much of an excuse for why this is almost a week late. I've been super bust lately, though. I've got crew every weekday morning, and I was a camp counselor this last week. Today's been the only time I had to write.
> 
> I'm super sorry, but I hope it was worth the wait!!
> 
> I do have free time now, so the next update will be on time. We're finally getting to the part of the plot that made me write this whole story. You'll see in a chapter or two!
> 
> Comment and Kudos! Leave song suggestions!


	8. King of the Clouds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Far away to a place where I’m free from this weight  
> This whole world, this whole world  
> I don’t trust anyone  
> Or anyone  
> Below the sun  
> I don’t feel anything  
> At all
> 
> ~Panic! At The Disco~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The new Panic! At The Disco album is a bop. 
> 
> Sorry it's late? I've been realllyyyy busy
> 
> TW: Brief mentions of panic attacks at the end. Not sure if it's accurate, as I myself have never had a panic attack. Be safe, y'all.

Despite the kid’s terrifying fighting abilities, Tony felt bad for him. According to Steve and Bucky, the kid had been locked up his whole life. And honestly, the whole HYDRA thing didn’t really matter. Tony would have done anything for Howard’s approval when he was a kid.

 

Besides, it wasn’t helping that the kid hadn’t said a word since his little bout with Ubiytsa. Bucky had given him a hand out of the snow, but Peter had quickly ducked away once he was standing. 

 

Bucky had also asked to see the arm that had gotten shocked earlier. Peter was cradling it to his chest, and from what Tony could see, it was mostly spotted, blackened and raw. Peter had shook his head and pulled his arm closer to his chest when Bucky spoke. 

 

“Are you sure?” Bucky had said, “I know some basic first aid that could help.” 

 

Peter only shook his head again and they all fell silent for the rest of their trek. 

 

\--

 

Steve decided where they set up camp. He had taken to scouting ahead, close enough to hear if they yelled for him. He found a little overhang that had protected the ground below from the thick snow. 

 

The ground was a little damp, but it was sheltered enough. Steve wanted to start a fire but Bucky insisted they shouldn’t risk it still so close to the base. 

 

“Does anyone actually know where we are?” Tony asked, glaring at the snowbanks. 

 

Bucky shrugged, picking at the dead grass, “We weren’t near a base when we got jumped.” 

 

“Russia?” 

 

“Yeah, we were going back to the Siberian bunker to remove all the equipment so they couldn’t use it again.” Bucky shifted to keep Peter in his line of sight. The kid was inching backwards. “We didn’t want to draw attention with the copter, so we were dropped a few miles off.” 

 

Tony was silent for a moment. “Do you think they retrieve it?” 

 

Bucky shrugged again, still watching the kid out of the corner of his eye. 

 

“Hey kid, where ‘ya headed?” 

 

Peter froze at Tony’s question, his dark eyes snapping to the man’s face. “Wasn’t goin’ anywhere,” Peter whispered, barely audible. His eyes left Tony’s face as quickly as they had found it. 

 

“I’m just wondering, we aren’t making you stay with us,” Tony said, trying to keep his voice even, “I mean, safety in numbers and all, but you can leave if you want.”

 

“I… can?” Peter asked hesitantly. Tony nodded. 

 

God, he was bad at talking to kids. 

 

“Oh,” Peter sat down on the wet grass, hunched forward a bit. 

 

Bucky watched him, an unreadable expression on his face. 

 

\--

 

After maybe an hour, Steve returned empty-handed. “I honestly have no idea if we can eat anything around here.” 

 

Bucky stood up, ducking a bit to avoid the rock above them, “I’ll try.” Steve looked vaguely insulted, but didn’t say anything, sitting down in between Tony and Peter. 

 

Peter stared after Bucky for a second. His eyes darted between Bucky’s back and Steve. Silently, when Bucky was a few yards away, Peter began to walk after him. 

 

Bucky rather obviously stopped to look at a plant and waited for Peter to catch up.

 

\--

 

Once Peter fell in step, Bucky actually started to look at the few living plants on the ground. 

 

“I think this one is edible,” Bucky said, pulling up at the stalk of a mushroom, “I was always bad with mushrooms though.” 

 

“Deadly hallucinogenic,” Peter said, crawling up the trunk of a tree. 

 

Bucky snatched his hands away, wiping them in the snow, “Right. What are you doing?” 

 

Peter threw a stick down at Bucky. “Squirrel.” 

 

“Won’t they run away?” 

 

Peter raised his eyebrows a bit, looking down at Bucky, “They’re hibernating.”  

 

“I did not know that,” Bucky said, “Huh.” 

 

\--

 

In the end, they found a ton of mountain sorrel buried in the snow and a few edible mushrooms. Bucky had been taught how to dig up angelica root. Peter killed a squirrel he found in one of the trees. Climbing down from a pine, Bucky realized that it had started snowing. Their footprints were gone. 

 

“Shit,” Bucky said, turning in circles. 

 

Looking down from the very top of a tree, Peter cocked his head. 

 

“Lost the footprints,” Bucky said. 

 

Peter smoothly jumped down, a bundle of dry branches in his arms, “Why do you need them?” 

 

“So we don’t freeze to death?” Bucky said, eying Peter warily, “Why else?”

 

Peter just shrugged, walking further into the forest. When Bucky didn’t follow him, he turned back, jerking his head in the direction he was walking, “Barnes.” 

 

“What? We need to find camp,” Bucky said, “Isn’t it more dangerous if we wander off?” 

 

“Iron Man is that way,” Peter pointed. 

 

Having no other viable options, Bucky followed him into the wilderness. 

 

\--

 

“How did you do that,” Bucky asked as their little camp came in sight. 

 

Peter shrugged, “Remembered.” 

 

“ _ How _ ?” 

 

Peter just shrugged again, falling silent as they approaching hearing range of Tony and Steve. 

 

The two men were huddled together, shivering. “You sure we can’t have a fire, Buck?” 

 

Bucky sighed a bit, “We’re too close to the bunker, we can’t risk the smoke showing.” 

 

“If we don’t there is a certain chance that we will get hypothermia and die,” Tony said, “I think we can risk it.” 

 

Bucky sighed, curling up beside Steve, leaning into his warmth. “I guess. We should get some firewood.” 

 

Peter dumped his bundle of sticks into the middle, next to where Bucky had put their rations. They were dry, but the ground was damp enough that it would take some doing to make a fire. 

 

“Awesome, thanks kid,” Tony said, reaching for some of the sorrel. 

 

Peter pulled it away from his hand, “Needs to be cooked.” 

 

“I think I can stand some raw greens,” Tony said. Bucky smirked as he watched Peter roll his eyes. 

 

“Poisonous,” Peter said, “Needs to be cooked.” 

 

Tony snatched his hand back to his chest. Bucky snickered, winking at Peter. The kid met his eye, but didn’t smile. 

 

\--

 

Steve and Bucky had moved so Tony was sandwiched between them. They had more time with the whole serum business, but Tony wasn’t enhanced. 

 

“Okay, anyone have anything that can start a fire?” Steve asked. Bucky shook his head, everything in his pockets had been removed, HYDRA knowing how innovative he could be. 

 

“I’ve got…” Tony dug through his pockets, “a watch and a gum wrapper.” Bucky could hear his voice sink at the end. 

 

Steve sighed, “So nothing. Can anyone start a fire with these sticks?”

 

Bucky watched as Steve started rubbing two together. “Wait,” he said, sitting up straighter, “Your watch has a battery, right?” 

 

Tony nodded, going to pull it out and handing it to Bucky. 

 

“And a gum wrapper?” It was crumpled into a ball, but it would work for what Bucky had in mind. Ripping the sides of the wrapper, Bucky set up the sticks so a thin one was sticking up, easy to light. He only got one shot. 

 

Pressing each end of the wrapper to an end of the battery, Bucky watched as the middle lit on fire. Holding his hands very still, he held the tiny flame above the stick. 

 

“Yes!” Tony gasped as the little twig lit on fire, spreading slowly to the rest of the bundle. The trio moved forward, huddling around the small pyre. 

 

Peter didn’t move, just watched them from across the fire. 

 

\--

 

As their measy food ration were dwindling, Tony nudged Bucky, nodding across the fire at Peter. Following his eyes, Bucky watched Peter for a second. The kid was just sitting cross-legged, staring blankly into the fire, holding his burnt arm gently. 

 

Bucky stood, grabbing most of the remains of the food, pressing a kiss to Steve’s hand and letting go of it. 

 

He plopped down next to Peter, making sure to give him space. He slid the rations over to the kid. 

 

Peter just stared. Bucky wasn’t sure if he was even blinking. 

 

“You can eat, you know,” Bucky said gently, gesturing at the little plants. The squirrel was long gone. Peter tilted his head up, looking at Bucky’s face, but not his eyes. “It’s not like we’re trying to starve you,” Bucky joked, “You should eat something, who knows when we’ll find more food.” 

 

Peter glanced up to meet Bucky’s eyes, then looked back at the food. Bucky didn’t say anything else, just curled a bit closer to Peter and a bit closer to the fire.

 

The kid scared him a bit. While he hadn’t had the level of brainwashing Bucky had, the kid was pretty set in his ways. Bucky wasn’t sure what had caused the switch, but something had happened to make Peter escape. 

 

After a while, Peter said, “I don’t remember eating anything other than what they gave me.” 

 

Peter was trailing a finger across his burn. “Always time to try new things,” Bucky said, tearing his eyes away from the arm. 

 

Peter hummed quietly. 

 

“Are you sure you don’t want anything to treat that?” 

 

Peter leaned away from Bucky slightly, pulling his arm to his chest. “It’ll heal.” 

 

It almost seemed like the kid was afraid of medical attention. “…Okay.” 

 

Peter picked up a piece of sorrel and slowly began to eat. 

 

\--

 

It took them a week to get out of the woods. There was a little village at the edge. No tech, but warm clothes and shelter and actual food. 

 

The residents were very welcoming, speaking to Bucky in Russian and attempting to communicate with the others. Steve knew some broken Russian, but nobody laughed at his attempts except Bucky. 

 

They were immediately rushed inside as soon as they stumbled out the tree line. They were handed new clothes and pushed behind curtains. 

 

“ снимай мокрую одежду,” One lady insisted, pushing at Bucky. 

 

“She wants us to change out of the wet clothes,” Bucky said, continuing to speak with the woman. 

 

Peter blinked as he was handed a bundle of furs, looking up at Bucky. The kid had warmed up to him considerably. Still didn’t talk to Tony much, Steve at all, but he would meet Bucky’s gaze and ask questions when they were alone. 

 

He was a sweet kid, and every time Tony tried to bring up his request, Bucky would glare. Tony understood Peter needed an out, but they also needed some help. Help that apparently, Peter could provide. 

 

“Can you even take that thing off?” Bucky asked, looking around Peter’s neck for a zipper. 

 

Peter shrugged, “You have to cut it off.” 

 

Bucky stared at him. “How long have you been wearing this, exactly?” 

 

Peter shrugged again, his hands picking at the hem of his sleeve nervously. “Since I grew out of the last one.” 

 

\--

 

They stayed in the little village for a few days. Tony mostly got the damp out of his lungs. He was still coughing, but it had settled enough that Steve decided they could risk leaving the village and it’s warmth. 

 

A trader told Bucky he was heading toward a larger town. Not a big city, but they had a computer. Meaning, Tony could get them a ride out of Russia. 

 

Also meaning Tony was heckling Bucky more and more about his ludicrous plan. Bucky knew more than anyone what the kid could have been through. Even so, he didn’t remember very much. 

 

Still, Bucky was certain all Peter would want to do is start his own life, away from all the superpowers and the experiments and the crushing weight of it all. Just like Bucky did, in that little apartment near the market that he liked so much. 

 

He had a good life there. 

 

Not that he would dream of ever leaving Steve or his new home. But when it had happened, through the ‘Civil War’, all Bucky wanted was to escape. To get away from the supers and their grudge match, to hide from his past and his strength and knowledge. 

 

He wanted to hide, really. 

 

Of course, he’s not just going to let Peter go off on his own. No, Bucky was going to keep an eye on the kid, make sure he didn’t do anything stupid. Some papers would need to be faked to get the kid an apartment of his own, but Bucky would make it work. 

 

In short, there was no way in hell Bucky was going to let Tony convince Peter to help in the clean-up from their fisfight in that airport. 

 

Sure, Peter would be a valuable addition. It would be nice to have another hacker on the team, and he was definitely a better fighter that Bucky or Steve. More subtle too. Peter was just what they needed to get everyone off the Raft, but there was no way Bucky was going to let it happen. 

 

Tony was nothing if not persistent. Bucky was basically by Peter’s side every second, glaring at Tony over the kid’s head to ensure he didn’t do anything. Luckily, Tony was still a little bit scared of him, so it was a very effective tactic. 

 

\--

 

Peter was helping the trader they were going to ride with load his wagon. It was pulled by two reindeer, which fascinated him to no end. He really hadn’t had a chance to meet any animals yet, and he was in love with the reindeer. They were so gentle and sweet. 

 

The trader really appreciated his help. At least, Peter thought he did. Barnes had tried teaching him a bit of Russian, but Peter refused to learn more than a few phrases. He wasn’t allowed to learn Russian. 

 

He also wasn’t allowed to leave the base. 

 

Sometimes, Peter would get all panicked and scared, and he would have trouble breathing. It happened a lot in the base. He wouldn’t be able to focus on anything and all he wanted to do was curl up into a ball. His hands shook. 

 

Barnes would always try to put a hand on Peter’s back, the not-metal one, and he would tell Peter to breath with him, that he was safe. 

 

Safe. 

 

In the base, safe meant away from the Avengers. Away from Captain America.

 

What did it mean now? 

 

The trader put a hand on Peter’s shoulder, asking something in Russian. Peter smiled shakily, placing the last box in the wagon. 

 

The trader took Peter’s hand and shook it earnestly. “ Спасибо,” He said, “Спасибо.”  _ Thank you.  _

 

“ Не стоит благодарности,” Peter said.  _ Don’t mention it.  _ He hadn’t learned much Russian, but he liked it when Barnes taught him a phrase or two. 

 

It was a big change, being able to ask what something meant. 

 

It was nice. 

 

“Peter?” Iron Man said, standing behind him. 

 

That was not nice. 

 

Peter wasn’t outright scared of Iron Man, but he couldn’t shake the wariness around him. Captain America was different. Iron Man was mostly just annoying and made Peter really anxious to be around. 

 

“Can I ask you for a favor?” Iron Man continued. Reluctantly, Peter turned around. 

 

Peter could see Barnes speed-walking over, trying to get out of a conversation with a local. 

 

“Do I have to do it?” Peter asked, looking above Iron Man’s eyes. He still wasn’t good at eye contact with anyone who wasn’t Barnes. 

 

Iron Man was visibly angry. His mouth tightened, his eyes narrowed.  _ Don’t make assumptions,  _ Peter reminded himself. He was working on that. Not everyone was mad at him, or frustrated because of him, or sad because of him. 

 

“No,” Iron Man said, finally. “That’s why it’s a favor. You can say no.” 

 

“Okay,” Peter put his hands in his pockets (he had pockets!). 

 

“So basically a bunch of our superhero friends are stuck on an underwater jail and we need another hacker and fighter to help us get them out,” Iron Man said.

 

“Why?” Peter asked. 

 

“Why what? Why you?” 

 

“No,” Peter cocked his head, “Why do you need someone else.” 

 

“Oh,” Iron Man said, “I sort of gave the people running the Raft- that’s the jail- my AI’s signature and mine and everything so I kinda can’t get in now.” 

 

Peter thought for a second. Iron Man was rich. Like, really rich. Maybe he could help Peter out a bit, get him away from all the superhero stuff. 

 

Yeah, that was a good idea. “Will you get me a place to live? My own.” 

 

Iron Man looked Peter up and down, “In exchange for you helping me break out my friends? Sure, why not?” 

 

Peter nodded. After a pause, he said, “In Queens.” 

 

Iron Man made a face, “Queens? Really?” 

 

_ A little apartment in Queens.  _

 

Peter nodded again. 

 

_ Peeling paint, broken A/C.  _

 

“Fine, but I’m not getting you another one when you realize how awful Queens is,” Iron Man shrugged and held out a hand towards Peter. 

 

_ A water stain on the ceiling above the coffee table.  _

 

When Peter didn’t move, Iron Man said, “Shake on the deal. It’s like a promise.” 

 

Peter slowly took Iron Man’s hand. “Thank you, Iron Man.” 

 

“Please, kid. Tony.” 

 

_ A poster of Tony Stark at the end of the bed.  _

 

_ “Come on, Uncle Ben. He’s a superhero! He would never hurt us.” _

 

_ “He would never let us get hurt.”  _

 

“Thank you, Mr. Stark.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think??? 
> 
> We finally got to Mr. Stark!!! 
> 
> I'm living for Bucky being an adorable big brother. He's so protective!!! 
> 
> Get ready for the next chapter, we're going to the Raft! I'm gonna try to get it out this weekend to make up for being late ;)


	9. Yesterday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's to my future  
> Here's to my yesterday  
> Here's to change  
> Oh, here's to my yesterday  
> No tomorrow without a yesterday  
> Here's to my future  
> Goodbye to yesterday
> 
> All these years I've been searching  
> Of who I'm supposed to be  
> All that time I've been wasting  
> It was right in front of me
> 
> ~Imagine Dragons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. 
> 
> This is literally about a month late. I'm sorry? 
> 
> I wasn't actually super busy. I mean, I was, from 7 to 1:30, but I had free time on the weekends and on Fridays and after 1:30 in the afternoon. So I really don't have an excuse,,,,, 
> 
> This chapter is longer, though! A hundred or two shy of five thousand! 
> 
> So, yeah, I'm sorry. I cut this chapter before I was planning, but it was a good ending and I didn't want to keep you guys waiting any longer. I did not edit this, so please, tell me if there's inconsistencies and stuff. 
> 
> ALSO: For my faithful readers, every mention of Flash has been changed to say Eugene instead. This will be important to the plot. Peter does not know the nickname Flash yet, it's just Eugene to him.

“You know you didn’t have to say yes,” Barnes said. He didn’t seem mad, so to speak. Peter was getting better at reading people, and Barnes just seemed annoyed. At Stark or at Peter?

 

“I know,” Peter replied. “He said I could refuse.”

 

“Okay,” Barnes sighed, “So why did you agree? I thought you wanted to get away from all this.” Barnes waved around them with his hands a bit. 

 

Peter didn’t say anything for a second. Maybe Barnes was right. “Does he keep his word?” 

 

“What?” Barnes scrunched up his forehead. Confusion, probably. “To anyone not in politics, yeah.” 

 

Honesty. Peter hasn’t gotten much of that in his short life. 

 

“He said he would get me a place to live,” Peter said, quietly. He wasn’t sure if Barnes would be mad or not, “In Queens.” 

 

Barnes stared at Peter for a second, something unreadable in his eyes. 

 

Peter unconsciously hunched down a bit, dropping his gaze. His right hand tugged down on his left sleeve. 

 

“We would have done that anyways,” Barnes finally said, watching Peter’s hands. “We still will, if you don’t want to go through with this.” 

 

“I will,” Peter said, wondering why Barnes was doubting him, “We shook on it.” 

 

Barnes just shook his head, smiled ruefully, and wandered off. 

 

\--

 

Captain America sat up front, beside the trader. The other three were sitting on the very back edge of the wagon, barely covered by the curtain cover the exit. Barnes and Stark were curled up under two or three blanket together. Peter was half-covered by the blanket, sitting just far enough so he wasn’t touching Barnes. 

 

He hated having to sit so close to the man. 

 

Not that he didn’t trust Barnes. Against all sense, he did trust Barnes. 

 

He just… couldn’t understand how they were so close together. 

 

\--

 

At some point, Peter started shivering. 

 

Bucky silent held up his arm, the blankets on top of it. 

 

\--

 

Bucky fell asleep at some point. 

 

Peter wondered how, when he was pressed up next to the man. 

 

His hands were shaking. 

 

\--

 

They stopped around noon. Barnes moved to the front to sit snug up against Captain America. 

 

The Captain said something. Barnes smiled, kissing the man. 

 

Peter was left sitting too close to Stark for his liking. 

 

\--

 

The journey took three days. 

 

Stark was silent for most of it. When Barnes gave them a few hours heads-up, he cleared his throat. 

 

Peter was still sharing the blankets with him, but was sitting so he would not touch Stark when the wagon jostled. 

 

“Are you sure about this?” Stark said, watching Peter with his infuriatingly unreadable eyes. Peter was growing annoyed with his practiced mask. He could never read the man. 

 

Peter nodded. 

 

“I mean, you said you were,” Stark paused, eying Peter, “But don’t you want to get away from, like, everything? Like Bucky did.” 

 

“What did Barnes do?” 

 

Stark laughed a bit, “He bought a shitty little apartment in Bucharest and somehow avoided being on the news for ages.” 

 

“How did you find him?” 

 

Stark grimaced, “There was a whole thing where we thought he bombed this hude building and killed some people, but it was a setup but we ended up fighting anyway and then we were all on the same side for a bit but I found out Bucky sort of killed my parents and I attacked him and now, a few months later, here we are.” 

 

Peter stared at Stark for a good minute. 

 

“Do I have something on my face?” 

 

_ You deserve to be locked away.  _

 

_ Wall-crawling freak.  _

 

_ Look at everything you’ve done.  _

 

_ Nobody could forgive you.  _

 

“You…” Peter’s eyes glazed over a bit, “forgave him for that?” 

 

“It was the right thing to do.” 

 

\--

 

The singular computer in the village was a wreck. A ratty, duck-taped old wreck. 

 

Stark actually let out an indignant little squeak when he saw it, turning right around to walk out the door. Captain America put a hand on his shoulder, turning him to face the computer again.

 

“I’m not touching that _ thing _ ,” Stark said, pointing an accusing finger at it.  

 

“How else are we supposed to send for help?” the Captain replied. 

 

“Figure it out! I’m  _ not _ touching it. That thing was probably made before I was born!” 

 

“Please,” Barnes rolled his eyes, “There wasn’t electricity when you were born.” 

 

“Hey! I’ll have you know-” 

 

Peter let the bickering fade into the background, approaching the computer. It was hooked to a bicycle sort of thing across the room for power. Ugh. 

 

Captain America came up behind Peter. He stiffened, but didn’t move away. “Want me to power it?” the Captain said. Barnes and Stark were still occupied. 

 

Slowly, Peter nodded, still refusing to look at the man. The Captain got on the rickety pedals, making a face when it squeaked under his weight. The screen slowly flickered to life as the Captain started to move. 

 

Except, the computer had no way to send or receive messages. What else could they use it for? Minesweeper? 

 

Peter sighed a bit, getting up to take the back off the computer.  

 

“What are you doing?” Captain America asked, having stopped pedaling. Barnes and Stark were quiet, but didn’t approach. 

 

“There’s no,” Peter huffed a bit as the back cover hit him in the stomach, “signal.” 

 

Stark stepped closer to watch as Peter built a makeshift satellite dish out of the unnecessary computer parts. 

 

He was sat back down at the computer in under ten minutes. 

  
Stark was breathing down his neck. Peter’s hands shook just a tiny bit. 

 

Scanning the available satellites, Peter went for the Avengers one. It stood out too much for his taste, with the classic “A” on it’s digital print and it’s physical side. 

 

Peter unconsciously pulled himself to be more hunched over the arm where the same symbol used to appear. 

 

It took him less than a minute to get in.  The AI was a bit of an issue, but Peter had the communications open soon enough. 

 

“Intruder, it would be in your best interest to exit before I am forced to take action,” the mechanical voice said. 

 

“Fri, it’s me,” Stark said, leaning over Peter’s head. 

 

“Boss,” The AI said, somehow sounding relieved, “Where are you?” 

 

Stark was silent, looking to Barnes. 

 

“North 69 10.297, East 85 13.911,” Barnes said, pulling Stark to the side of Peter’s chair. 

 

“How in the hell do you know that?” Stark asked, staring. “Wait, right, no time. FRIDAY, be a dear and send us the Quinjet. Do not alert anyone else about this.”

 

“I still can’t believe you stole that thing from SHIELD,” Captain America said, still pedaling. 

 

\--

 

It didn’t take too long for the jet to reach the little town. As promised, it was empty. 

 

“Welcome back, Boss,” the AI said as the group boarded. Peter could see cameras in every corner of the cockpit. “How should I register your companion?”

 

“This is Peter, uh,” Stark paused, looking back at Peter, “Encrypt his file.” 

 

“Parker,” Peter said quietly. 

 

“What?” 

 

“Peter Parker.” 

 

Peter sat on the floor, as far away as he could get from the others. Barnes was watching him out of the corner of his eye. 

 

\--

 

They landed on a coast somewhere. Peter wasn’t sure where, he wasn’t exactly paying attention. 

 

Captain America and Barnes went to buy supplies, while Stark fiddled with the computer. “Okay,” he said, eventually, “Come here, kid.”

 

Stark had up a ship’s log. Small sailboat, named  _ La Balsa.  _ Peter looked at Stark questionly, who had moved out of the chair in front of the screen. 

 

“That,” Stark said, jabbing a finger at the log, “Is how the Raft is registered. We need you to hack it, tell us when it will next surface.” 

 

Peter cocked his head, taking the keyboard. He easily bypassed the disguise, baring the actual registration. It was harder to get into the main system. It did use to be a government vessel, after all. 

 

But harder didn’t mean longer, and it only took an hour or two. Peter still wasn’t really used to having to keep track of time with clocks.

 

When he exited the jet to meet Stark, he was sitting with Barnes and the Captain, on the wing, watching the horizon. Peter jumped up easily, settling next to Barnes. 

 

“It’s docking by Dakar tomorrow, four AM,” Peter said, after a moment of watching the distant waves. 

 

“How long?” the Captain asked, on the other side of Barnes, leaning forward to look at Peter. 

 

“An hour.” 

 

Captain America nodded, jumping down. Stark followed him, mentioning something about developing a plan. Barnes responded with a faint smile and a short sentence. 

 

The sun had set before Peter arrived, which, sadly, was something he had been dying to see. For the moment, he was more than content with watching the stars glitter. 

 

Barnes had to repeat himself a few times before Peter heard him say, “It’s getting late.” 

 

Peter hummed a bit, not looking down from the sky. 

 

“It’s getting late,” Barnes said, for maybe the fourth, fifth time. “We should head in, get some sleep.” 

 

Peter shrugged, “I’m okay.” 

 

There was a little scoff from Barnes. “We have to be up early.” 

 

“I’ll be ready.” 

 

“You need to sleep,” Barnes said, “It’s already eleven.” 

 

Peter scrunched his brow, giving Barnes a brief glance. There was what Peter thought was an airplane going by overhead, blinking with a red light. 

 

“Come on, kid,” Barnes sighed, “You need more sleep.” 

 

There was a pause. Peter could see Barnes turn his head up to the stars out of the corner of his eye. 

 

“What are you thinking about?” Barnes asked, quietly. 

 

Peter shrugged, “It’s pretty.” 

 

“Yeah,” Barnes said, “It’s amazing.” 

 

Another long pause. 

 

“Tell you what kid,” Barnes jumped down from the wing, “I’ll go get us some hammocks and we can sleep out here. But only if you actually sleep.” 

 

Barnes’ voice was playful. Not an order. “Ok,” Peter said. The airplane’s light blinked out of sight. 

 

\--

 

Peter woke to the gentle hum of the engine below him. It had taken him a while to fall asleep, with Barnes’ soft breathing and the dim light. He wasn’t used to sleeping with any stimulation. Not to mention how he didn’t want to sleep next to someone else. 

 

Eventually though, eventually he slept. 

 

Peter sat up in his hammock, staring at the wide expanse of stars. The moon was closer to the horizon. 

 

Barnes jolted up when the door to the cockpit slammed shut, Stark strolling out to squint up at the pair on the wing. “You’re getting as bad as Clint,” Stark said. “Roll out in five.” 

 

Barnes nodded, moving to untie his hammock. Peter stared at the moon. 

 

“Hey, kid,” Barnes said. Peter slowly moved his gave to the man’s face. The crinkles at the corners of his eyes. Not quite his eyes yet. “Can you get yours down? We gotta hustle.” 

 

That Peter could do. Tasks he could do. 

 

They were walking inside the jet far too soon, in Peter’s opinion. He cast a final longing glance at the glowing sky before the door shut. He returned to his spot in the corner for the flight. 

 

\--

 

Peter found himself rubbing his empty wrists while the trio was suiting up. They had given him some old combat pants and a long-sleeve t-shirt.

 

Barnes had tried to give him a kevlar vest, but Peter refused. It would constrict his movements, and flexibility was his whole thing. Barnes stared at him disapprovingly for a long while, but didn’t press it. 

 

It’s not that he couldn’t fight without his webshooters- he had proven that fact many times over- it was just the feeling of empty wrists. 

 

Stark chose that particular moment to be observant, and commented on it. “What were those things?” He asked, gesturing at Peter’s wrists. 

 

“My webshooters,” Peter replied, picking at his newest scar, the burn on his left wrist. 

 

“What are the webs made of? Please don’t tell me they’re natural.” 

 

“No,” Peter said, amused. He didn’t smile. “It’s a polymer I made. Similar to nylon, but stronger.” 

 

“Cool,” Stark said, “Do you want to make more? Minus the whole electric kill-switch.”

 

Peter nodded slowly, watching Stark’s nose. 

 

Stark jerked his head, moving into a back section of the jet. Peter followed, hesitantly. They emerged into a smallish room covered in junk. Bit and pieces of technology, most still in working order, just deconstructed. 

 

To someone like Peter, it was a jackpot. He let his mouth curl up a bit at the edge. 

 

“You have, like, twenty minutes,” Stark said, leaving the room, “Work fast.” 

 

Ten minutes later, Peter had two fully-functional webshooters on his wrists and extra fluid capsules in his pockets. 

 

Minus the whole electric kill-switch. 

 

“Damn kid,” Stark said when he saw, “You work faster than I thought.” 

 

Peter nodded. 

 

“Can I see?” Stark asked, flicking his fingers for Peter to come over. 

 

Stark reached out for Peter’s wrist, but he quickly snapped off his left webshooter and dropped it in the man’s hand. There was a brief pause, but Stark pulled his hand back, inspecting the tech. 

 

Pointing it at the far wall, he tested the trigger. Nothing happened. 

 

“It’s a sixty-five pound trigger,” Peter said. “And you need to press it twice.” 

 

Stark furrowed his brow at Peter. “You can put sixty-five pounds of pressure on this in quick succession like that?” 

 

Peter demonstrated, tapping the trigger on the remaining webshooter twice with his middle and ring fingers. It was second nature, and the weight was nothing to him anymore. 

 

“Damn,” Stark said, handing Peter back the webshooter. 

 

“Ooh, let me try,” Barnes said, holding a hand out. 

 

“It’s anchoring,” Captain America said, stopping Barnes. 

 

“After,” Barnes winked at Peter. “Then we can embarrass the whole team.”

 

“You have to get closer, right?” Captain America asked, to Peter. “To hack the security.” 

 

Peter nodded. 

 

“Okay. We don’t know what they’re going to send for their supplies so we’ll just have to figure out how to sneak on once we do.” 

 

“There,” Stark pointed at a helicopter approaching from the sea. 

 

“Shit,” Captain America swore. 

 

“Language!” 

 

Sparing a light glare, the Captain kept talking. “We can’t hide on a helicopter that size.” 

 

“Crates, maybe?” Barnes said. 

 

Stark shook his head, “They check at least three times.” 

 

“I can do it,” Peter said, quietly. 

 

“Hijack it?” The Captain continued. 

 

“No, we would need codes.”

 

“Threaten the pilot?” 

 

“They have silent communications.” 

 

“I can do it,” Peter repeated, a bit louder. 

 

This time, Stark heard him. “What?” 

 

“I could get on the Raft.” 

 

The three stopped to look at Peter then, wearing matching disbelief. 

 

“How?” Stark thought to ask, eventually. 

 

Peter nodded towards the helicopter as it landed. Seeing the scepticism on everyone’s faces he said, “Now would be a good time to remind you that I can stick to literally everything.” 

 

Barnes raised an eyebrow. Oh no, too bold. He shouldn’t have phrased it like that. 

 

Stark was smirking at him, something light and veiled in his eyes, but his words were serious, “Are you sure we should let you go alone?” 

 

“I broke into your SHIELD base,” Peter said. 

 

Barnes made a sort of considering nod towards Peter. 

 

“It’s not that I don’t think you can, kid,” Stark squinted at the helicopter in the distance, “I just wanna be careful.” 

 

“Then let me go,” Peter crossed his arms, rubbing the edge of his burn. 

 

Stark raised an eyebrow, but didn’t take his eyes off the horizon. 

 

“It would be more dangerous if we all go in now. I can send a boat or the chopper for you after,” Peter said, digging his nails under the webshooter, “I can get in and hack the security before anyone even notices. You would get spotted in under a minute.” 

 

“He’s right,” Stark said, to the Captain. “He should go first.” 

 

\--

 

Sneaking onto the bottom of the helicopter was way too easy. Since it was a public landing pad, they didn’t leave any guards out front, just a man inside the cockpit. Peter just slipped through his blindspot and clung to the undercarriage. 

 

The black mask Stark had made him clinging to his face was a familiar feeling. It was rushed, and wasn’t cloth like the one he was used to, but the mask had always made him more confident, and this one was doing the same. 

 

Peter gripped the dagger Barnes had given him tight, tucking it securely into his waistband. Barnes and the Captain refused to let Peter go without a weapon, no matter how they had seen proof that Peter didn’t need any. 

 

In his ear, Peter could barely hear the comm over the copter, “You on? Over.” 

 

“Confirm,” Peter said. Professional he could do. “ETA ten minutes.” 

 

“Roger.” 

 

There were voices in the cockpit. Someone walked into the cargo hold, then back out to the cockpit. It was an uneventful ride. 

 

The landing was the hard part. He couldn’t stay on the bottom, so that he wouldn’t be spotted. When the chopper was nearing the Raft, Peter crawled up the back, staying out of view of the pilot. Peering through a window, he waited until the men are looking forward, and swung himself into the cargo hold. 

 

It’s a close call, the co-pilot glancing back just as Peter slides behind a crate, but he made it. 

 

Pressing a finger to the comm in his ear, Peter said, “In cargo hold. ETA three minutes. Over.” 

 

“Roger.”

 

Now that Peter was close enough to the base, he began hacking it on the spare Stark Phone that was in the jet. He was in fast, and looped the security cameras on the helipad. He memorized the route to the computer center through the vents just as the helicopter touched down.

 

As the blades stopped spinning, Peter could hear two guards walking up. He saw three more by the doors leading down. They all had walkie-talkie sort of things on their belts. So really, as long as Peter got all the walkie-talkies, it was smooth sailing. 

 

The first four were easy, unsuspecting, caught unawares. The two guards that came to take out the crates were silenced by some carefully places webs, and Peter snatched their radios, crushing them in a hand. 

 

He just jumped into the cockpit and webbed the pilots to their seats, swinging out a window to confront the final two before they could alert security. One stepped towards him, holding up a pistol, the other pulling his walkie-talkie up to his mouth. 

 

Peter webbed the radio of of the man’s hand before he could say anything, snatching the other guard’s with his free hand. He crushed both of them, letting the pieces fall to the ground. 

 

Sticking both guards to the ground, Peter ducks under a shot from the first one, attaching a web to his hand and pulling it behind his back. Just as the first one is secured, the second takes a shot at Peter. 

 

He pulls the man he just tied up down further, so that the bullet missed both of them. Peter pulled the gun out of the second man’s hand. 

 

“Isn’t it rude to try to kill your coworkers?” Peter smirked under the mask, webbing the second man’s hands as he strolled into the stairwell. 

 

Climbing into a vent silently, Peter quickly disabled any alarms and wide broadcasting systems. He was in the middle of blocking the walkie-talkie frequency when Stark crackled over the comm. 

 

“You in, kid?” He asked. 

 

“Yes. On my way to the central command. Sending a boat for you now.” With another few swipes, Peter had locked the Raft into position, so it would stay until the little automated boat he sent returned with it’s passengers. 

 

Peter slipped the phone back into his pocket and began crawling on the top of the vent towards the command room. It was quieter, a trick he had taught himself just recently. 

 

He waited once he was right above command. “ETA,” he said softly. 

 

“Twenty minutes. Over.” 

 

Peter waited three minutes and dropped into the fully-occupied room. Every person inside had a gun trained on Peter in seconds. He was expecting it, and smoothly ducked a shot and webbing four from the people closest. 

 

One rushed at him unarmed, Peter catching his punch easily and using the momentum to flip over the woman, jumping across the desks to snatch more weapons, webbing people down as he did. 

 

It was two minutes before the entire room was unconscious and restrained. Peter was moving each person into an attached storage room when his comm flickered on again. “Status.” 

 

“Inside command,” Peter responded, checking the guard schedule and the vent path leading to the cells holding the rest of his companion’s team. “Headed to cell block. Over.” 

 

‘Wait for backup,” Barnes said, “Just in case. Over.” 

 

“No,” Peter winced as he said it. “They’ll figure out something’s wrong by then. Now or never.” 

 

“Kid, wait,” Stark said, “Please.” 

 

“Headed to cell block,” Peter replied, taking a key ring from an officer and climbing back into the vents. “Over.” 

 

Peter ignored the exasperated sigh from his earpiece. 

 

Just making it to a vent outside the cells as the guards change, Peter waits until one settles right underneath his position. There are five in the circular room, three that he can web immobile easily, including the one directly underneath him. 

 

As the guards outside the cell room start talking quietly, Peter drops on top of the man below him, landing heavily on his shoulders. Using the surprise, Peter webs the other two not blocked by a cell wall and knocks the one below him out with an elbow. 

 

One of the prisoners whistled. They’re all watching him. 

 

A single guard rushed him, the other waiting with a gun drawn. Peter webbed the first’s feet to the ground, pushing a foot off the man’s chest into a neat flip over, snatching the second guard’s gun before he could get his bearings. 

 

“That was  _ so cool _ ,” another prisoner said. Not the same one that whistled. 

 

Peter paused for a second, listening to see if the two outside were still talking. They were. He was in the clear. 

 

Scanning the cells, the only one that Peter recognized was the Black Widow, meeting his eyes with a practiced blank gaze. Suddenly, Peter was glad for the mask. People were more intimidated when they couldn’t see how young he was. 

 

Pulling out the keyring he had stolen earlier,  Peter twisting the manual lock open and used the borrowed phone to override the digital code and fingerprint locks. 

 

Peter unlocked the Widow’s handcuffs as fast as possible, dropping the keys in her hands and moving to the door leading out. The Widow slowly began to free her companions, as Peter listened to the two guards. 

 

There were more patrolling the hallways, but once there were more fighters released, it wouldn’t be an issue. 

 

“ETA ten minutes,” someone said in Peter’s ear, “Status report.” 

 

Peter stepped away from the door to say, “Releasing targets now. Once all are free, headed back up to command through main hallways. Over.” 

 

“Really?” Stark said, loud and enthusiastic. 

 

“Confirm.” 

 

“Great job, kid,” Barnes said, “Be careful.” 

 

“Confirm,” Peter said again, then softly, “See you soon.” 

 

“Yeah, kid,” Barnes replied. Peter could hear what he thought would be a smile.

 

The Widow was unlocking a collar on the last of the prisoners. They were all arming themselves, taking weapons from the guards. 

 

Peter stood with one hand on the keypad by the door, the other on the knife in his waistband. The Widow strode up to stand behind him, her companions behind her. Peter met her eye and whispered, “Two guards directly outside. Two at end of hall. Patrols every six minutes.” 

 

The Widow’s eyes were smooth, calculating. Peter was sure they would be a mirror of his. She nodded, “I’m on the door, you go distant.” 

 

Peter didn’t reply, just entering the code. He slipped in front of the Widow, dodging the two right outside the door, running for the end of the hall. The Widow took down the ones my the door fast, from what Peter could hear. 

 

As the two he was after started shooting at him, Peter heard the prisoners taking cover and smoothly flipped up so he was running on the ceiling. 

 

“ _ So cool _ ,” one of them repeated. 

 

Peter webbed one of the guard’s gun arm to the wall. He snatched the gun out of the other’s hand with a well-placed web, whipping it so the guard was knocked unconscious. He flipped back down to the ground, meeting the first guard’s eye. 

 

Somehow managing to keep himself from blocking the blow, Peter lets the guard punch him in the face, hard enough to send the mask flying, broken in half. 

 

Peter didn’t move an inch. 

 

Not even when he heard the prisoners whispering behind him. “He’s just a kid,” a blond guy whispered, too quiet for a normal person to hear. 

 

Peter cocked his head at the guard, who was doing a rather admirable job of hiding his fear, considering. “What’s the code for evacuation?” Peter asked, his voice deadly soft. 

 

The guard was silent, instead deciding to try another punch on Peter. He caught the guard’s wrist easily, pushing into the wall hard enough to bruise. Wincing a bit, the guard met Peter’s eye.

 

Pushing the guard’s wrist further into the wall, hard enough that he could feel the metal bending underneath his fingers, Peter said, “What’s the code?” 

 

Grimacing, the guard said nothing. 

 

Peter squeezed the guard’s wrist, hard, and shoved it back, making a rather large dent in the wall. 

 

“Fuschia!” The guard said, just before his wrist would have snapped, “It’s code Fuschia.” 

 

One of the prisoners snickered, “We all know what that means.” 

 

Someone else groaned. “Scott!” 

 

Peter webbed the guard’s bruised wrist to the wall, eying him suspiciously as he tapped into the loudspeakers from the phone. Lowering his voice an octave or two, Peter said into the phone, “Ross 9638203, Code Fuschia. D-1-8-E. Repeat, Ross 9638203, Code Fuschia. D-1-8-E.” 

 

Sending a sharp smile to the guard, Peter asked, “What? Didn’t think I knew your tricks?” He knocked the guard out with a swift elbow. 

 

Peter pressed a finger to his comm, ignoring the Widow moving into the hall in front of him, taking out a patrol, “ETA.” 

 

“Five minutes. Status. Over,” the Captain responded. 

 

“Called evac. Mostly likely by boat, keep an eye. Headed to command with targets. Over.” 

 

“Copy. Watch yourself. Over and out.” 

 

Peter sealed the patrol the Widow took down to the ground. She nodded at him, something pained in her eyes, hidden deep enough that he wouldn’t have been able to see it, if not for how familiar he was with the veils they had both been taught. 

 

“How old are you,” the blond one asked, the one who had whispered when Peter’s mask had been knocked off. He bore enough similarities to the SHIELD agent Barton, Hawkeye, that Peter decided it had to be the same person. 

 

Peter shrugged. 

 

“Seriously, kid. You’re definitely not legally an adult,” Hawkeye continued, “Why are you here?” 

 

As they came across another patrol, Peter whipped the dagger out of his waistband, throwing it so the hilt hit one guard square in the forehead, knocking him down. He webbed the serrated blade, flicking it to hit the second guard. 

 

He webbed them to the ground, pulling the dagger back into his hand and Hawkeye asked, “Where did you learn to fight like that? Who are you?” 

 

Peter shot a glare at the man as the group started up a flight of stairs, the ones in the back that would be out of the way of the evacuation. 

 

“The ceiling thing, is that tech or is that just you? Because that’s a really random and also super cool power to have.” 

 

“And the white shit,” another man said, his dark hair choppily shaved off. “Please tell me that’s not natural.” 

 

“Hey now, Sam,” Hawkeye said, “Don’t curse! There’s kids present.” 

 

Peter rolled his eyes. The Widow was watching him out of the corner of her eye. Before she could blink, Peter slammed Hawkeye into the closest wall, dagger to his throat. All the prisoners except the Widow had their stolen weapons trained on him. 

 

“I swore to Stark I would free you,” Peter growled, his face a practiced, a dangerous blank, “I never said you would be alive.” 

 

Peter pushed Hawkeye’s shoulder back into the wall as he turned back to his route. 

 

“Kid, can we not threaten my friends,” Stark said in his ear. Of course they had been listening the whole time. 

 

Putting a finger to his ear, Peter said, “He was annoying me.” 

 

“Still can’t threaten people,” Barnes joined the line. 

 

A sigh. “It was an interrogation tactic,” Peter smirked at the tiniest flash of shock in the Widow’s eyes, “A rather common and idiotic one.” 

 

Peter winked at the Widow, slipping through the door at the top of the stairwell. He was just turning the corner when the group began to follow him again. 

 

Nobody spoke to him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was it worth the wait? I hope so, because I'm probably disappointing all of you right now.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! 
> 
> As always, give me song suggestions! I love it!
> 
> PS ((Have y'all listened to sweetener yet? Ariana Grande is the love of my life and it's so good I've been listening to it on repeat all day.))


	10. THIS IS NOT AN UPDATE (and i forgot to do this in novemenber i’m sorry)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i’m sorry i forgot this announcement!!!!!!

okay. so here’s the thing: 

i am still in school, five days a week, taking honors and all that yknow

i also do crew, practice five days a week and get home after six thirty or seven usually. 

i spend until like ten thirty on homework. 

i’m busy all day saturdays and then spend sunday on homework 

on break i’m spending time with my family and usually don’t have access to a computer 

so, i’m really sorry, but this fic will be on hiatus until i get out of school, which will be early july 2019. i am so so sorry that i forgot to do this at the start of the year, as i originally thought i would be able to keep up with updates and thing just got away from me. 

i plan on writing a lot this summer though, even though i will be doing crew and working and doing crossfit every day, as i won’t have school to deal with too. 

again i am really sorry, and while i could probably get y’all another chapter or two before summer they would not have the time and focus spent on them that you and the characters deserve. and besides, it would be awful for both my mental health and my sleep schedule 

so see you guys this summer! i love you all and thank you all for waiting for me :)


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